Shades of Gray
by Shadow Rebirth
Summary: See Atra Regnum.
1. Chapter 1: The Book

Title: Shades of Gray: The Book  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 4,624  
Story WC: 4,624  
Last Edited: November 14, 2008  
Posted: June 14, 2007  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This work has not been endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros., or any of the others holding copyright or license to the Harry Potter books, movies, and products. No connection is implied or should be inferred. Other names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author receives no financial gain from its production or distribution.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 1  
_The Book_

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A fist sized glass ball floated in the air, spinning. Abruptly, it jerked upward, then to the side, then to the other side. A few seconds later it was flying in every which direction, doing loops and fancy tricks in the air.

A pair of deep emerald green eyes intensely watched the glass orb, though their owner didn't appear to be concentrating very hard. Instead, he was glaring off into space past the ball, lost in thought.

Suddenly a door off to the side opened, causing light to spill into the previously dim room. Instantaneously, the glass ball dropped out of the air and into a fifteen year old Harry Potter's hand. Said boy then quickly looked up at the door, fixing his expression into that of neutrality.

"Hey," Dean Thomas said as he closed the door to the Gryffindor fifth year boys' dorm. Harry, who was lying on his stomach on his four poster bed, nodded to him in reply. Dean stood awkwardly with his back to the dorm door for a moment before coughing into his hand and striding across the room to where his own bed was. He rooted around in his trunk for a minute, uncomfortably aware of the intense stare that was directed toward his back via the infamous Boy-Who-Lived. Once he'd found what he'd been looking for, he quickly moved to leave the room.

Against his own instincts, Dean stopped before the door. Clearing his throat slightly, he turned around to face Harry.

"Hey..." Dean began hesitantly. Harry cocked his head to the side, indicating that he was listening but otherwise making no move to speak. Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally gathering the courage to continue. "Are you okay, Harry? 'Cause...you know..."

Harry studied Dean for another moment before turning his attention back to the glass ball in his hands. "...I'm fine," Harry replied. When Dean didn't make any move to leave, he glanced up at the dark skinned boy again. "Really I am," he added.

Dean didn't look as though he believed him. He shifted uncomfortably for another moment and looked as though he wanted to say more, but in the end the uneasiness of the situation won out over him. With just a simple nod, Dean slipped out of the dorm room, closing the door soundly behind him.

As soon as his dorm mate's footsteps on the stairs had faded away, Harry let out a deep sigh. He had nearly been caught that time. Glancing at the nightstand behind him, Harry took note of the wand—his wand—that was resting there innocently. Other times he'd had his wand near his hand so that he could easily come up with an excuse if someone noticed him doing anything odd, but this time...

Sighing once more, Harry shifted his attention back to the glass orb in his hands and his expression quickly shifted into that of a glare. He snarled quietly, not because of anger over anything to do with the glass ball, but just in anger over the direction—or rather downward spiral—that his life had taken recently. In a fit of unrestrained anger, he tossed the glass ball at the far wall, but stopped it with his magic just centimeters before it made contact with the wall. Harry called the ball back to him and caught it deftly in his hands. It wouldn't do to damage to glass orb; it was Neville's remembrall, not his, and he had it for no reason other than that it was something to practice his magic on.

Why was Harry practicing magic on a glass ball? Well, Harry had a dark secret. It was something that he'd never told anyone, not even his closest friends. It was something that no one would ever guess about him, and partially for that reason he held it close to his heart. And if things continued as they had for years, then no one would ever find out.

You see, Harry Potter wasn't a wizard. He never had been. For as long as he could remember, Harry had been able to use magic. And it wasn't like the accidental magic that all young witches and wizards experienced, but rather something much more controlled. In fact, he'd have to say that he had just as much control over his magic today as he did when he was three.

Now, one might say that this just meant that Harry was more powerful that usual. This was exactly what Harry had thought when he first found out about the Wizarding World, and about how witches and wizards had to use wands to accomplish feats of magic.

The problem, however, ran deeper than that. Harry discovered this when he went to Ollivanders: None of the wands did anything for him. They were like dead pieces of sticks in his hands and didn't react at all to his magic. After going through several dozen wands, Harry got so fed up that he just used his own magic to make it look as though one of the wands had "chosen" him. It was pure irony that that particular wand just so happened to be Voldemort's brother wand. Fate seemed to hate him that way.

Since discovering that he was different, Harry had gone to great lengths to hide his differences from the rest of the Wizarding World. It wasn't that difficult, really, considering as he'd been doing the same for all of his life to hide his abilities from the Dursleys. Harry had figured out at a very young age that the Dursleys—and humans in general—hated and feared anything that was different from what they considered normal. Because of this, Harry had been careful to never show his abilities to his family or anyone else. He had experimented with them in private, figuring out what his limits were and exactly what he could do.

Another thing that Harry had had to hide from the Dursleys was his intellect. Harry had always been an incredibly bright boy, which wasn't surprising since his entire life had been a fight for survival. When one grows up in such a situation, they tend to be very observant and able to use most anything to adapt to survive. Harry was no exception and he'd found that he generally caught onto things a lot quicker than others his age.

Harry had, however, pretended to be normal in order to avoid notice. But this didn't stop him from going down to the public library in his spare time and spending hours upon hours reading anything that he could get his hands on. He learnt a lot this way; in fact most of what he'd learnt in primary school was not from school itself but from that library.

Harry was also fortunate that he usually had a lot of time to go to the library. Contrary to what he had told his friends, his relatives hadn't given him very many chores when he was younger for fear that the neighbors would notice. Instead they would just kick him out of the house and leave him up to his own devices. This was actually how the rumors that he was a "hoodlum" had started; after all, what kind of a child spent barely any time at home? Harry couldn't help but chuckle at what the neighbors would think if they found out _where_ he'd spent all his time.

One would probably wonder that, if Harry was so bright, why was he only an average student at Hogwarts? The answer to this frustrated Harry quite a bit. He knew that he could do quite well if left to his own devices, but he had to follow the Hogwarts curriculum, and mimicking the spells that they were supposed to do was more difficult than most would think.

You see, Harry did magic differently that anyone else. For wizards, it was as simple as an incantation, a wand movement, and an intention. For Harry to cast a spell he had to understand what he was doing almost on a molecular level and how and why the results that he had wanted to happen would happen. For even a simple spell he would have to spend quite some time in the school library researching the spell and what it did so that he could mimic the result accurately, and waving a stick around while doing so certainly didn't help his concentration.

Doing the amount of work for every spell that Harry did left him with very little time to experiment on his own. Because of this, Harry was bound to the work that all Hogwarts students did and he couldn't work on finding out more about what his own powers did. Harry did, however, get several ideas that he never would have thought of before coming to Hogwarts—the Fidelius charm was a prime example of this.

With a sigh, Harry shifted his position so that he was lying on his back. Hiding the fact that he was different had been much more difficult than he'd thought when first deciding to come to Hogwarts. Just in the first year he'd had to get used to attempting to mimic the spells that. On top of that he'd had difficulty fitting into the Gryffindor house. This in itself was something that he'd completely understood: during the sorting ceremony the Sorting Hat had been completely adamant about putting him in Slytherin, insisting that it was the only place for him, more so even than the Ravenclaw that Harry had originally guessed he'd be placed in.

Harry did have to agree with the hat's decision; after all he had grown up having to be as cunning as possibly in order to survive. However, contrary to what many people believed, Harry was neither stupid nor naïve. He knew that if went into the so called "dark house" then many people would believe him to be dark and thus shun him. Not to mention it'd place a lot of extra scrutiny onto him, and that was something that he _definitely_ didn't want.

No, Harry knew that he had to be placed into Gryffindor in order to appease people's curiosity. In the end, the only way that'd he gotten the hat to do so was by convincing it that a true Slytherin would be placed in Gryffindor, since no one would expect that.

'_A snake in a lion's den..._' Harry thought with a dark chuckle.

After that, the year had only turned stranger and stranger and he had eventually become friends with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Harry had to admit that they were the closest friends that he'd ever had. They may have been different from him and in reality didn't even really know the "real" Harry Potter, but they were still good friends, if not the best.

Of course, simple school yard drama wasn't the worst of the year. No, instead all of the strangeness accumulated in the end of the year, when Harry's curiosity had gotten the better of him and he and his two friends had gone to try to "save" the Philosopher's Stone. There, when Quirrel had attempted to kill him, the professor had found that he couldn't touch Harry without being hurt himself. Harry still wasn't sure why exactly that was, and didn't believe for a moment the "love" bull that Headmaster Dumbledore had fed him.

After that, Harry knew that he should have expected that his second year would be strange as well, but nothing could have prepared him for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. The school year itself had been okay—if one ignored the terror that had spread throughout the student body.

He had to admit though that finding out that he could speak to snakes had been fairly interesting. At first he had thought that it was just another strange thing about him, but then he'd been told that it was an ability inherited by "dark wizards". To this day Harry wasn't sure whether his ability to speak Parsletongue was connected to Voldemort or his non-wizard-like abilities.

At the end of the year the strangeness had once again accumulated to one final meeting. This time he had had to fight off an ancient Basilisk and destroy Riddle's memory. The Basilisk itself hadn't been very difficult to defeat; that had only taken a few minutes. He'd had to make up a story about using Gryffindor's sword to kill the beast though, since Riddle had had his wand during the fight and thus he shouldn't have been able to use magic. Plus, saying that he'd pulled out Gryffindor's sword helped to cement the belief that he was a "true" Gryffindor.

Fortunately, Harry's third year had been much quieter, and thus much easier to keep his abilities hidden. His meeting with his Godfather had made it a year to remember though. Also, finding out about Time-Turners had been interesting, and had caused several ideas to begin whirling around in his mind. Would it be possible to mimic the effects of time turners without having to use one? The only problem was that he'd probably need to understand how time works for that, and that was something that _no one_ knew.

Learning the Patronus was definitely a highlight of that year. It was quite easily the hardest spell that he'd ever had to master, especially since there was little to no know background on the spell. The main reason as to why he'd finally been able to master the spell was really just instinct and desperation.

In contrast to his third year, Harry's fourth year had been the most active of them yet. Unfortunately it also put a lot of spotlight on him and his magical ability. It was very lucky that no one had caught onto to the fact that he was different, especially considering that he'd had to get through all of the tasks with everyone's attention solely on him.

After completing the third task, Harry had had to fight with a fully revived Voldemort. _That_ was easily the most terrifying experience Harry had ever had to go through, and for him that was really saying something. The strangest part about that encounter meeting was when he'd dueled with Voldemort. For whatever reason—though most likely because his wand and Voldemort's were brothers—his wand had literally taken control of his magic, causing a golden beam to connect.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as his thoughts shifted to his fifth year at Hogwarts, a year that was only just ending. This year had been his worst year at Hogwarts yet, if not as active as his fourth. The reason for this was because Sirius, his Godfather, had—

Abruptly a sharp cracking noise erupted to Harry's left, causing the dark haired teen to shoot up in his bed. Looking off to his right, Harry cursed as he saw cracks in glass of the window there. Sighing once more, he concentrated and caused the glass to instantly mend itself back to its flawless state. Harry then slumped back onto his bed, his face in his hands.

This was why he had to be careful and keep his emotions in check; Harry had a tight control over his magic, but his magic also reacted strongly to his emotions. Whenever he got too angry or emotional, things around him tended to either break or react strangely. Because of this, he usually attempted to keep his emotions relatively neutral while reacting differently on this outside.

Harry rolled over once more, this time onto his stomach again so that he could hide his face in his pillow, and forcefully turned his thoughts back to the events that had happened just a couple of weeks ago. Fighting in the Ministry had been hard, considering that he'd, once again, had to keep his abilities under wraps. But then, Sirius had been killed and he hadn't been able to stop him because he'd been too damn slow. Harry had only turned just in time to watch horrified as Sirius fell through the veil, unable to do anything about it.

As if that tragedy wasn't enough, Hedwig, the faithful owl that she was, had followed him and his friends to the Ministry. Harry hadn't even known that she had until she swooped down just before a killing curse hit Harry, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy, taking the hit for him. That night Harry had lost two of the beings closest to him: his Godfather and his first friend. And though he wasn't sure if he should, Harry couldn't help but blame Dumbledore.

The old Headmaster had been a direct cause for many of the things that had gone wrong in his life and, on top of that, he'd waited far too long to tell Harry about the Prophecy. Harry did understand why Dumbledore hadn't told him earlier—if he'd been told during his first or second year he'd probably have just up and left the Wizarding World—but if he'd told him even during the beginning of this year then several lives could have been saved.

Harry really was amazed that Dumbledore hadn't even explained what was going on when he'd assigned Harry to take Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. That experience had been nerve wrecking on Harry, since he'd been sure that Snape would find out his secret. Harry was sure that it was only because Snape had been only looking for embarrassing memories that he'd gotten away scot-free. The experience did, however, make him determined to master Occlumency so that he could protect the secret of his abilities even better.

The one time that Harry had truly lost all control over his emotions was just after Dumbledore had told him about the Prophecy. At that point his anger completely exploded. He'd then begun to destroy the Headmaster's office, partially because of his anger, but also mainly to hide the damage that his unrestrained magic was doing to the office. He'd only stopped once he'd finally gotten his emotions—and thus magic—under control once more.

And now here he was, two weeks later, on the last day of school. Tomorrow morning they'd leaved on the Hogwarts Express for London and the cycle of summer and schooling would start all over again. With a groan, Harry buried his face even further into his pillow.

He just _couldn't_ wait to see what next year would bring.

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Harry lay staring blankly up at the top of his four poster bed. The sky outside was dark; Harry guessed it was about two in the morning. The rest of his dorm mates were asleep and Ron's loud snores were reverberating through the room. With an almost inaudible sigh, Harry realized that he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight. So, casting his version of a silencing spell around himself, he slid out of bed.

Unheard by anyone else in the room, Harry opened his trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map. He then slid the cloak around his shoulders and opened the map with a tap of his finger and the whispered password. Giving it a quick scan, he was glad to notice that there were no teachers or Prefects patrolling anywhere near the Gryffindor tower.

Still silent, Harry moved quickly out of the Gryffindor common room and into the cold, damp halls of Hogwarts. He traveled silently down the corridors, checking the map every now and then and acting accordingly to what he saw. After only five to ten minutes he arrived at his destination—the library—and slipped in.

Harry breathed in deeply as he looked around at the hundreds upon hundreds of bookcases that made up the library. He always felt at peace here, perhaps because he'd spent most of his childhood within a library. Harry moved forward then, navigating through the isles of books with an ease borne from many a sleepless night spent doing exactly what he was doing now. Before long he had ducked into the restricted section.

Harry wandered through the rows of books for another minute, not quite sure what he was looking for. Eventually, he wound up in a dark, dusty corner of the section. With a sigh—something Harry noticed he'd been doing a lot recently—the green eyed boy sat down with a slump against one of the bookshelves and randomly pulled out an old tome that was directly across from him. He stared dispassionately at the title scripted in gilded letters for a moment, before exactly what he was reading hit him and his eyes immediately widened.

Branches of Magic by Eoly Riellendri. _Branches_ of Magic. Harry felt his heart beginning to race in his chest. This meant that there really were other branches of magic besides wizardry? That perhaps there were others like him? Excitedly, Harry opened the book and began to read the introduction. One part in particular caught his attention.

_...There are two main different types of magic: that of wizards and that of magical beings—which are not to be confused with magical creatures. The magic that they all use is essentially the same, but how they access it is different._  
Harry paused, shocked. Wizards couldn't directly access their magic? No wonder there was such a difference between them and these magical beings. Shaking off his thoughts, Harry dove back into his reading, eager to find out more.  
_  
Within the division of magical beings, there are many different branches. The main branches include mages, born vampires, born werewolves, elves, fayeries, dwarves, goblins, veela, and centaur. For more information, see their respective chapters.  
_  
Harry paused again, curious as to why the book specified born vampires and born werewolves. He hadn't even known that vampires and werewolves could be born! Weren't they only changed when bitten? And how could werewolves be considered magical beings in the way the book had described earlier? Remus certainly didn't fit that explanation as far as he knew.

Wizards and magical beings alike all have magical cores—which is the source of their magic—and magical channels which their magic runs through their bodies, very similar to a person's veins. The difference between wizards and magical beings is due to this system. Magical beings are directly connected to their magical cores via their magical channels. It is because of this they can directly access their magic. Wizards, on the other hand, have no such connection between their magical pathways and their magical cores. As such they must use wands to bridge this gap. In essence, wands act as a conduit for wizards in order to allow them to use magic.

Harry also couldn't help but wonder why merpeople weren't on this list of magical beings while centaurs were. Didn't the Ministry classify them as magical creatures only because they refused the classification of "being"? Harry had a feeling that this book was written by someone with absolutely no connection to the Ministry though. Already, in just a few paragraphs, he had learnt a lot more about how magic worked that wasn't taught at all at Hogwarts. He could understand why, Harry thought with a smirk. Most wizards would absolutely be appalled at being told that they had less connection to their magic than those that they considered to be monsters.

Making a split section decision, Harry turned to the first chapter, which was about mages.

_Mages are the magical beings closest in physical make-up to wizards. Indeed they are often times mistaken for wizards, since they are basically humans with a strong connection to magic. The only other difference between mages and wizards is that mages tend to have much larger cores and much better control of their magic than wizards, as most magical beings do. Even less than magical beings, mages cannot use wands. While in the hand of a magical beings wands will at least have some affect, but for mages the wand would have more of a reaction in the hand of a muggle.  
_  
Harry breathed in sharply, his eyes going wide with shock. This description...it was so accurate. This was almost exactly how Harry would describe himself, without all of the technicalities of course. Did this...did this mean that he was a mage? It would certainly makes sense and explain why his wand was so useless to him, if not why it reacted the way it did when he dueled Voldemort in his fourth year.

Positively thrilled at the idea that he might finally be figuring out what he was Harry went to lunge back into reading the book, when the something at the bottom of the next page caught his eye.

_Currently the only school for mages is Silvermoor Academy of Magic. For more information, please see Magical Schooling.  
_  
Harry's mouth twisted slightly. He was caught between reading more about mages and checking out this schooling thing. Eventually curiosity won out and after a quick check of the index, Harry flipped toward the back of the book, where the chapter on Magical Schooling was and scanned through the text until he found the section talking about this "Silvermoor" place.

_Silvermoor Academy of Magic, while not one of the oldest schools, is one of the most prestigious, founded by the mage Merlin himself. Enrolling is fairly difficult, as almost the entire student body is made up of prominent clans of many species and highly talented students. The school accepts almost all species classified as magical beings, though the main species that attend include mages, born vampires, born werewolves, elves, fayeries._  
Harry stared at the page before him, a large grin spread across his face. This was perfect! He could just imagine the type of things that he could learn at such a school. That was, of course, _if_ he was a mage. Harry was also a bit wary about the fact that vampires and werewolves went to this school too, but they were just magical beings too...right?

Silvermoor Academy's current Headmistress is Silvia Mikhailova, an ice elf of notable power. She...

Harry's thoughts were abruptly cut off when the teen noticed a ray of light falling across the floor on the other end of the isle. Quickly, Harry scrambled to his feet and peeked around the bookshelf he was leaning against to get a glimpse of the window he knew was visible from his spot. Sure enough, Harry was able to look out the window and his eyes immediately widened at the lightness of the sky outside.

No! Harry thought, surprised. It couldn't be sunrise already! He was sure that he hadn't been wondering around for _that_ long before he'd found the book he'd been reading. Regardless of his astonishment, Harry knew that time had indeed flown. Quickly, Harry moved to shove the _Branches of Magic_ book back in his place, only to hesitate, frown on his face. This book was a wealth of knowledge and Harry knew that he'd be leaving Hogwarts for the summer today. Was it really wise to just leave it?

Harry paused for another moment before shoving the book under his arm, a slight smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. No one would notice if he took it anyway; it didn't look as though anyone had even _been_ in this corner for many a year. Harry then slung his invisibility cloak around his shoulders and left the corner in which he may have just found the answers to some questions that he'd been asking for as long as he could remember.

As he hurried back to his dorm room, the only thought on Harry's mind was, '_There has got to be some way for me to contact this Mikhailova person..._'

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A/N: Hmm, I really shouldn't be posting this right now as I wanted to get a few more chapters done before I did...But I've got around 10 chapters (almost 60k) done for this so far, so why not (**shrugs**) Please note that this story is _not_ about wandless magic. As for what it is...Well, you'll see. I'll be going in depth about magical theory later on in this story.

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	2. Chapter 2: The Platform

Title: Shades of Gray: The Platform  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 4,894  
Story WC: 9,518  
Last Edited: November 14, 2008  
Posted: June 16, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 2  
_The Platform_

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The next morning Harry woke up to the noise of his dorm mates rushing around and finishing last minute packing. Harry groaned as he sat. Normally he'd be annoyed at not being woken up earlier, but he'd only gotten a couple of hours of sleep since returning from the library and so was glad for the few extra minutes.

"Hey mate!" Ron said boisterously as he passed Harry's bed with an arm full of clothes. "About time you got up!"

Harry grumbled something under his breath in reply as he wiped the last traces of sleep from his eyes. Slowly the teen slung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up, stretching as he did so. Harry then strode over to his trunk and pulled out some clothes for the day, inconspicuously making sure that the book that he had found last night was still hidden at the bottom of his trunk where he'd left it.

The next few minutes flew by in flurry of motion as Harry joined the others in the dorm in making sure that he had everything packed and ready for the long train ride back to London. Once he was sure that he was indeed ready, Harry grabbed the few things that he would be taking with him on the train and left his trunk at the foot of his bed. He then began to make his way down to the common room, a loudly complaining Ron trailing along behind him. In truth, Harry wasn't sure what Ron was complaining about this time; he'd learnt back in first year that tuning out the red head's rants was generally best for one's health.

At the foot of the stairs Harry saw Hermione arguing with some other girl. Once Hermione noticed Harry and Ron she immediately turned away and greeted the two of them.

"There you are!" the bushy haired girl exclaimed. "I've been waiting forever for you! Do you have everything packed? Are you sure? If you leave anything behind you won't be able to get it back until next year."

"We've got everything, 'Mione," Harry assured her, holding back a sigh. He loved the girl, really he did, but she was just so _patronizing_ sometimes.

Hermione continued to fuss around the two of them for a bit longer and, predictably, she and Ron got into an argument over something. Harry ignored their squabble as he led the way out of the portrait hole.

As the three continued on their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry proceeded to nod greetings to many people along to way. It was good to keep at least on good terms with as many people as possible, and simply greeting those that he knew helped Harry to do that.

Of course the trio couldn't even make it all the way to the Great Hall without running into some sort of trouble. Just as the rounded the corner of an empty corridor, Harry caught sight of Draco Malfoy standing a few feet from them, flanked on either side by Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry stifled a groan. He really didn't want to deal with this. He'd thought that Malfoy would at least wait until they were on the train before making his expected appearance to antagonize them, but apparently the blonde couldn't even wait that long. Honestly, Harry didn't hate Malfoy so much as he was irritated and perplexed by him. The boy was supposed to be a respected "pureblood" noble, but instead acted more like a spoilt child. Harry wasn't even sure if he was a true Slytherin sometimes; he often seemed to be more fit to Gryffindor considering how brash he could be.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Malfoy sneered as though he hadn't been waiting for the three to show up. Harry had to stop another groan; how was it that Malfoy managed to perfectly fit the stereotype of a comic book villain while not even knowing what a comic book was, let alone having read one? Now _that_ was a true mystery of the universe.

"What do you want Malfoy?"

The blonde continued to sneer. He did not answer Harry's question, but instead said, "And you've the weasel and the mudblood trailing along as usual, eh Potty?"

Immediately, Ron's face went scarlet and he moved to lunge at the smirking Slytherin. "Watch your mouth, Malfoy!" he snarled. Fortunately, Hermione managed to grab his arm in time to hold him back.

This time Harry didn't stop the sigh from escaping his mouth. Before he could say anything in reply to the blonde though, Malfoy turned his attention back to him, having noticed Harry's sigh.

"Aww," he said mockingly. "Does Potty still miss his Godfather?"

Immediately Harry's mouth tightened and Ron renewed his struggles against Hermione's grip. Instead of replying however, Harry simply strode forward and brushed past Malfoy. Normally he'd rise to the blonde's bait and get into an argument and/or fight with him, but his Godfather was a sore spot and he _really_ wasn't in the mood for Malfoy's arrogance.

Seeing him walk away, Ron and Hermione stilled, surprised. They exchanged glances momentarily, before quickly following after Harry. Malfoy, meanwhile, stood sputtering in Harry's wake, an indignant look plastered across his face. Quickly, he whirled around and took a few steps toward the retreating back of the so called "Golden Trio".

"Things will be interesting next year, won't they?" Malfoy yelled out in a last ditch attempt to get a rise out of Harry. Said teen paused in his tracks and glanced at the oncoming blonde. Not even twitching his fingers, he conjured a metal bar in front of Malfoy—though, really, it was more like transfiguring air molecules into the metal bar—, bent the way light reflected around it to disillusion it, and then forced it to levitate horizontally off the ground, level to Malfoy's ankles. He did this with in a bare millisecond so, fortunately, no one noticed.

Harry watched, a slight grin quirking at the corners of his lips, as Malfoy continued to stride forward, only to apparently trip over his own feet. Harry then instantly transfigured the bar back into air, erasing any proof that it had even been there in the first place. Malfoy himself plunged forward, sprawling across the stone floor in and undignified heap. Now _this_ was one of the great things about Harry's abilities.

Behind him, Harry heard Ron howling with laughter and Hermione giggling quietly into her hand. Even Crabbe and Goyle stared blankly at the Malfoy heir for a moment before breaking out into snickers. The grin that he'd been holding back before came onto his face in full force as Harry turned on his heel and continued down the corridor.

"Yes," he murmured under his breath as he, Ron, and Hermione continued toward the Great Hall, "I think this coming year is going to be _very_ interesting." As he walked, Harry never noticed the feelings of apprehension coiling in the bottom of his stomach.

"Ah, man, that was bloody perfect!" Ron howled, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he held is own stomach and continued to laugh. "And we didn't even have to do anything!"

"Oh, Ron, it isn't good to laugh at people," Hermione stated with a huff. Despite her words a smile was still tugging at the corners of her lips.

"You can't say that that wasn't hilarious," Ron pointed out. "And you were laughing earlier too!"

And thus the two once again got into another squabble. Harry followed their argument with half an ear while his mind was turned to other things, namely Sirius and Hedwig. Slowly, Harry's mood turned slightly depressed again. He knew that neither of them would want him to act the way he was, but Harry also knew that he needed to grieve if he was to ever get over their deaths. Apparently, Ron and Hermione noticed the change in his mood as well and became quiet.

It was in this state that the three entered the Great Hall. They continued silently over to the Gryffindor table. They sat down there, near Dean, Seamus, and Neville. They exchanged greetings with them before loading their plates with food and chowing down. Harry noticed, with no small amount of irritation, that everyone around was acting very careful now and barely even speaking. Once again, they were treating him as though he was a bomb that was about to go off.

Harry chomped down on a piece of bacon a little harder than necessary and then noticed that the liquid in his glass was vibrating slightly. Purposely he forced himself to calm down a bit.

Harry was glad that his friends cared, he really was, but treating him as carefully as they were was not going to help. He was grieving for those whom he had lost, but he was about to go on murderous rampage or try to kill himself.

In silence, and with Harry still simmering slightly, they finished eating and then left with the crowds of people heading out of the front doors of Hogwarts. After a bit of a walk, they finally reaching the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, where the carriages pulled by thestral were waiting.

Harry and his friends quickly claimed one of the carriages, but instead of going in, Harry moved toward the thestral pulling the carriage, a slight smile gracing his lips. Harry stood in front of the thestral for moment, just looking at it.

Thestrals really were amazing creatures, despite their desolate appearance. They looked so weak, so wraith-like, but despite that were incredibly strong, as he and his friends had found when they had easily carried to the Ministry. They had sleek leathery wings with a larger wing span than most winged horses.

What really stuck Harry about them were their eyes. At a first glance their eyes were a simple milky white, but if one took the time to look, as Harry was doing now, then it was quite easy to see the colors that danced across their eyes like a silvery curtain.

Slowly, Harry reached out a hand and ran his fingers though the creature's black mane. Even just standing here, Harry could somehow feel some sort of a connection with this creature of death...

So entranced was Harry at looking at the thestral that he jumped in surprise when a voice called out to him. Looking up, eyes wide, Harry saw Hermione leaning out of the carriage window, a look of worry on her face.

"Come on, Harry!" she continued. "We're about to leave!" With one last glance at the thestral, Harry quickly hurried into the carriage with his friends.

The ride to the Hogsmeade Station was fairly quiet, and Ron and Hermione only got into an argument once. Harry spent the entire ride staring out of the window. The sky was quite sunny, which was very unfitting for Harry's current mood. Despite this the dark haired boy just stared at the sky, watching the clouds float by as they made their journey.

Soon enough the carriage pulled to a stop and the group unloaded themselves. They then headed toward to Hogwarts Express, which was gleaming in the sunlight as students boarded it. As they pushed their way through the crowds, Harry nodded discretely to a few people that he knew, some of them people whom his friends would be surprised to find out that he knew.

After making their way on to the train, Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed for the first empty compartment that they could find. They settled down there, though Ron and Hermione would both have to leave soon after the train departed to deal with their Prefect duties.

Harry sighed and leaned his head against the glass of the window. He stared blankly outside, his thoughts whirling around in his mind as he tuned out the sounds of Ron and Hermione. Slowly, without even noticing it, he surrendered to the warm embrace of sleep.

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Harry woke up with a jerk, the sound of the compartment door sliding shut ringing in his ears. Blinking blearily, he looked around and noticed that Neville and Luna were sitting in the seat across from him, where Ron and Hermione had been before. A swift glance outside and also told him that the sun was beginning to set, thus meaning that they would be arriving in London soon enough. Stretching his back with a groan, Harry sent a questioning glance at Neville. Understanding what Harry was asking, Neville spoke up.

"Hermione and Ron are out on their Prefect duties. They just checked back in, but left when they saw that you were still asleep," Neville told him, his voice surprisingly level. At this point, his lips quirked upward slightly. "You've been sleeping all day; we're nearly at the station. You must have been busy last night."

Harry smirked at him, lounging back in his seat. He easily took note of the knowing glint in Neville's eyes, but said nothing in reply. Instead he glanced over to Luna and chuckled when he saw that she was staring off into space, not appearing to be paying any attention.

Over the next half an hour, Harry and Neville slipped into easy conversation. Before Harry had even realized the time, the compartment door slid open once more and Hermione stepped in. When she saw that Harry was finally awake, she smiled. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Ron suddenly popped up beside her.

"Hey," Ron said brightly, "We're just arriving at the station."

True to his word, the train suddenly stopped at that moment, its brakes screeching. Ron immediately turned around and exited the compartment, eager to be getting off the train. Sighing, Hermione followed him.

"We'll see you outside," Hermione called over her shoulder to Harry. Harry nodded in reply before following Neville and a dreamy Luna out at a leisurely pace.

Out on the platform people were milling around, getting their trunks and greeting their families. After pulling out his own trunk, Harry said goodbye to Neville when the boy spotted his grandmother, promising to speak to him some time over the summer. Turning back around, Harry noticed that Luna had already left.

Chuckling in amusement at the strangeness of the girl, Harry headed over to the large group of red heads that he spotted out of the corner of his eye. While approaching, Harry saw that Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Hermione's parents were standing around talking and exchanging hugs. Seeing Harry out of the corner of her eyes, Mrs. Weasley immediately turned around and enveloped him in a backbreaking hug.

"Oh, Harry dear!" she exclaimed. Harry hugged the matronly woman back, his reply greeting muffled. Finally, Mrs. Weasley let him go and held him at arms length, examining him. "You're still too pale..." she said, frowning. Harry sighed; spending most of his youth in dark corners of the library had apparently caused his skin to be permanently pale, or at least he guessed it had since his recent summers spent outdoors gardening hadn't changed his skin at all.

Still frowning, Mrs. Weasley looked Harry in the eye. "Oh, you poor boy," she continued, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "How are you? Are you holding up okay? Anytime this summer—anytime at all—you can owl us."

She looked as though she was going to continue, but Ron butted in, to Harry's great relief. "Come on mum!" he exclaimed. "Harry's fine. Aren't you Harry?" Hermione immediately hit the redheaded teen over the head, glaring at him. Ron yelped in indignation and two proceeded to squabble once more.

Chuckling, Harry turned his attention back to the worried Weasley matron. "Really, Mrs. Weasley, I'll be fine," he assured her. Mrs. Weasley didn't look as though she completely believed him, but she nodded anyway and let the subject go.

At that moment Mad-eye Moody and Tonks walked over to the group. "Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks called out jovially as they stopped before him. Moody grunted in greeting as he peered about the platform suspiciously, his magical eye spinning around.

Harry smiled weakly up at them, memories from that night a few weeks ago flashing through his mind once more. As if picking up on his emotions, Moody suddenly fixed both of his eyes on Harry, peering at him closely. Harry quickly shifted his gaze away, not in the mood for talking about what had happened.

After a moment of studying Harry however, Moody spoke up. "I...have a message from Dumbledore," Moody said. He was frowning as he relayed this, as if he didn't agree with whatever he was about to say. Harry shifted his attention back to him then, interested. What did Dumbledore have to say that he couldn't have told them himself, earlier?

Sighing—a very un-Moody action, which only made Harry even more curious—Moody continued in his gruff voice, "Dumbledore says that no one can send any messages to Harry this summer."

Harry's mouth immediately dropped open and he could hear loud protests coming from behind him, especially from Mrs. Weasley. Moody glared at them all and slowly their words petered out. "I don't agree with it," he bit out, "But _Dumbledore_ says that the owls could be tracked and Harry's positioned compromised."

Harry had to hold back a growl from escaping from his throat. Of all the things the old bastard had done...! Keeping him at his relative's house was bad, but forbidding him to receive or send messages was just insane! Apparently, Mrs. Weasley had similar thoughts and didn't mind voicing them as she immediately strode up to Mad-eye Moody, shoved a finger in his chest, and began arguing with him.

Harry would have listened in, but at that moment his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, approached him once more. Immediately Hermione enveloped him in a hug, similarly to how Mrs. Weasley had.

"Oh Harry," she said as she pulled back, sniffing. "I'm so sorry that we won't be able to contact you!" Harry smiled tightly and nodded in appreciation.

"Yeah mate," Ron agreed. "And we'll see if we can get Dumbledore to bring you over to Gri—" Hermione quickly hit Ron over the head and hissed at him to be quiet. Ron glared back at her, rubbing the back of his head, and muttering under his breath. Sending a sheepish glance at Harry, he continued. "We'll see if we can get Dumbledore to bring you over to _that_ place as soon as possible."

Harry smiled lightly once more. "Thanks guys."

Before they could take their conversation any farther, Tonks bounced over to them. Offhandedly, Harry wondered how one person could have as much energy as she seemed to.

"Well," Tonks said smiling. "Moody and I are here to, uh, _speak_ with your relatives before you leave with them." Tonks gave the three a cheeky grin as she said this, giving them much reason to believe that they would be threatening the Dursleys.

"Yes," a voice behind them agreed. Harry jumped and spun around, only to find Mad-eye Moody standing there looking down upon him. Harry's mouth tightened in annoyance at having been snuck up on so easily, but his attention was diverted when Moody opened his mouth once more and continued, "We'd better be going now. We wouldn't want to keep those no good muggles waiting." He sneered at the end of his sentence to Harry's surprise.

As Harry proceeded to say goodbye to the Weasleys and the Grangers, he couldn't help but wonder which house Moody had been in when he attended Hogwarts. Slytherin didn't seem too farfetched for the old Auror.

Following Tonks and Moody through the exit to platform 9 3/4, Harry turned around and waved goodbye to his friends and their families one last time. "Hopefully I'll see you soon!" he called out. For some reason, though, he couldn't help but feel that that wouldn't be the case.

Outside, Harry was met with the loud sounds of bustling crowds. People were everywhere, talking over one another, and Harry noticed that every now and then he could catch a glimpse of a few wizards moving through the crowds, most of them students. Tuning out the distractions, Harry searched around for a moment until his caught sight of the Dursleys. Flanked on either side by his "guards", Harry navigated through the station to where the Dursleys were waiting.

When they reached the portly family—well, Petunia was an exception—Moody went straight for Vernon Dursley. "May I speak to you for a second?" Moody asked as he pulled the large man off to the side, some how managing to make it sound more like a statement than a question. Spluttering, Vernon followed, though most likely the main reason he did so was not to make a scene in such a crowded place, rather than because Moody was pulling him along.

Meanwhile, Tonks helped Harry put his trunk away in the Dursley's car, completely ignoring Petunia and Dudley. His mouth tightening once more, Harry realized that this was the first year that he didn't have Hedwig's cage with him as well. Straightening up and pushing his grief away until he was not around the Dursleys, Harry smiled weakly at Tonks and said his goodbyes to her.

"Take care, you hear?" she said with a grin as Harry got into the car. Harry smiled back and gave a final wave. Not a moment later his uncle and Moody returned. Moody gave a gruff goodbye to Harry and Vernon said nothing as he climbed into the driver's seat. Harry guessed that Mad-eye Moody had explained to him about Sirius and Hedwig dying. Hopefully that meant that the Dursleys would mostly leave him alone that summer.

The car then quickly pulled away from the station and Moody and Tonks quickly faded into the distance, along with Harry's connection to the Magical World.

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One week later found Harry holed up in his bedroom, lying on his bed with a book in hand. He hadn't come out much since he'd returned to Number 4 Privet Drive with his relatives, instead preferring to dive into his studies. In fact, he was sure that the only times he'd left his room was to go to the bathroom and take showers. The Dursleys had taken to pushing his meals through the flap that was still at the bottom of his door since he never came out to eat.

Harry had also spent the week figuring out and memorizing the shifts that Order members who watched over him had. He desperately wanted to practice his magic now that he had endless free time, but he couldn't risk Moody seeing him with his magic eye. To solve this dilemma, he simply figured out who watched him when and for how long. He figured that in a couple of days he'd be able to practice his magic without fear of being caught.

One thing that Harry had figured out his first summer back at the Dursleys' was that he could practice his magic without being caught by the Ministry. Whatever spells they used to track students didn't affect him. He also figured that the tracking spells could possibly be on his wand. That didn't, however, explain why he did receive a letter about using magic when Dobby, the house elf, levitated a cake.

Shaking off his thoughts, Harry looked down at the book that was currently in his hands. It was the _Branches of Magic _book that he'd found in the Hogwarts library. He'd nearly completely finished with the book—it'd taken so long mainly because he'd been reading other books as well—and was completely and utterly fascinated by it.

In his reading, Harry had found out many things about vampires and werewolves than he'd never known before, and in fact Harry doubted that many people did know. It had completely changed his perspective on the creatures that witches and wizards considered monsters.

For example, most vampires were actually born rather than bitten. Despite this, it was actually very hard for vampires to give birth. The reason for this was because when a vampire was first conceived there was a spark of magic and this spark generally killed the fetus. When it didn't, and the baby was strong enough to survive the rest of the mother vampire's pregnancy, a vampire would be born. For this reason these vampires were generally called born vampires.

The reason why not many vampires were turned was mainly because only a willing human could be turned. On top of that, the book said that tradition stated that only certain, high-status vampires could turn humans.

Harry was also quite shocked to find that many of the beliefs that muggles and wizards alike held on vampires were quite wrong. For example, vampires were not harmed by sunlight at all. That superstition had come about solely from the fact that they had paper white skin. Their eyes were somewhat sensitive to sunlight however, and Harry guessed that that caused many vampires to operate at night, which gave support to the sunlight myth. Vampires did have to drink blood to survive though. They could also eat human food, but blood was their main sustenance.

Harry frowned, remembering that the book had stated something about magical properties of blood. Quickly he flipped back to the chapter on vampires and began to scan through the text. Before he could find what he was looking for though, another section of the chapter caught his eye. Harry couldn't help but smirk; he'd been surprised at first to find out that vampires did indeed have a government, and then later had become fairly interested in it.

_All vampires belong to a clan, a large family if you will. Born vampires belong to the clan they were born to whereas turned vampires are automatically inducted into the clan of their turner. These clans have existed for thousands of years, almost as long as vampires themselves have existed. Over the years some have died out and some new ones have been created. Currently, there are nearly 100 clans in existence._

_Of these clans there are thirteen head clans. These clans are considered nobility among vampires. The heads of each of these clans make up the Ancient Council. The Council governs over all clans and vampires, and is said to have existed for as long as the clans have. The vampires of the Council are considered equals, with no one governing over another. Naturally, however, there are certain clans that hold more sway than others._

Harry smirked as his eyes swept across the page. It was interesting to see that vampires governed themselves a lot more effectively than wizards. Really, a council of equals was a perfect idea.

In his reading Harry had also found that mages governed themselves similarly. They too had a council, called the Concilium, though theirs was made up of the most powerful mages of the age rather than clan heads. Also, the mages' the Concilium _did_ have a leader, whom was voted in by the rest of the council every ten years.

Continuing to flip through the book, Harry came across the page about werewolves and smirked again. He had been quite surprised to find out that there were actually two different types of werewolves: bitten werewolves and born werewolves.

Bitten werewolves were the only type of werewolves that wizards were aware of. They resulted from muggles, wizards, or magical beings who had been bitten by another bitten werewolf. They were only magical if the original person had been.

Born werewolves, on the other hand, were "true werewolves" whom were innately magical. Like humans they were born from two parents, at least one of whom had to be a born werewolf. Unlike their bitten counterparts, true werewolves did not change into mindless beasts during the full moon. Instead they could change at will, at any time, and would keep their minds when doing so. Their wolf-man form also tended to be a lot more powerful than those of bitten werewolves. True werewolves were affected by the moon however, if only in the fact that their powers were substantially increased during the full moon.

To be honest, Harry wasn't entirely sure whether he should be upset or glad that Remus was a bitten werewolf rather than a born one. On one hand he was a lot less powerful and a lot more beast-like, but it also meant that he was more human than he would be.

The governing system of true werewolves was the loosest of any race. They existed in hundreds of packs, which were made up no more than 10-20 werewolves. There were a few larger packs, but not many. Beyond this, there were no defining rulers. The pack leaders could all gather in the case of a dire global emergency, but there have only ever been a handful of such meetings in all of history.

Abruptly, Harry looked up from the book out of the small window in his room. To his surprise the sun was already setting. Harry smiled grimly; Mundungus Fletcher would be on duty right now, which meant that it was his time to do what he needed to do.

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A/N: Not much action in this chapter, but that's because I needed to show how the Harry of this story interacts with the canon characters and to get some information about my versions of vampires and werewolves out. I realize that eventually info about all these creatures will get confusing, but I'll be trying to bring it up again and again within the story so that people will get plus. I might eventually put all information together and either put it in a separate chapter or story.

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	3. Chapter 3: The Headmistress

Title: Shades of Gray: The Headmistress  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 4,626  
Story WC: 14,144  
Last Edited: November 14, 2008  
Posted: June 24, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 3  
_The Headmistress_

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_Abruptly, Harry looked up from the book out of the small window in his room. To his surprise the sun was already setting. Harry smiled grimly; Mundungus Fletcher would be on duty right now, which meant that it was his time to do what he needed to do._

With a snap Harry closed his book and jumped off his bed. He strode over to his trunk before crouching down before it and opening the latch. He placed the book at the bottom, underneath everything, and pulled out a nondescript black hooded cloak. Standing up and closing the trunk behind him, Harry then moved over to his bedroom window and pulled the curtains closed. He had no need for anyone to see what he was about to do.

Standing in the middle of the room, Harry pulled his cloak around his shoulders and then pulled the hood up so that his face was slightly shadowed, but still mostly visible. Harry took a deep breath before silently taking a spot in the middle of the room and beginning to concentrate.

Harry wrapped his magic around him, using it to change the way light reflected off him. Just moments later he opened his eyes and smiled; he didn't need to look in a mirror to know that his face had changed.

Harry now had chocolate brown eyes and short sandy brown hair. His face shape had changed slightly as well and his distinguished lightning bolt scar had completely disappeared. He was also now about half a foot taller; just over six foot. Harry's smile widened into a grin; glamour spells could be so useful, especially since his could only be taken off by him.

Chuckling lightly under his breath, Harry Disapparated out of his small bedroom with a small pop.

Harry had come across his Apparition ability in the same way that he'd come across all of his other abilities with magic: Through accidents and experimentation. Of course, he hadn't known that it was called Apparation until he'd come to Hogwarts, but that was beside the point. Harry had first Apparated on accident when running away from Dudley and his goons; he'd attempted to jump behind some large garbage bins, when he'd suddenly found himself sitting on the roof of the school's kitchens.

Later on Harry had experimented with this newfound ability until he figured out how to do it whenever he wanted. The only problem was that he would make a very audible sound when he appeared and disappeared. It was only when Harry was reading a book about molecules one day in the public library that he'd come up with a solution.

Harry'd figured out that when he Apparated it was the displacement of air molecules rushing in to fill the space that he'd left—or, on the appearing end, air molecules quickly moving out the space that he was suddenly occupying—that caused the loud noise. So, instead of just moving himself from one place to another, if he switched himself with the air of the space he wanted to be in, then the transition would go smoothly and soundlessly. With much practice he could now control the amount of noise he made when Apparating, whether he wanted it to be louder or quieter.

Over time, Harry had also figured out how to "Apparate" objects. It was a lot more effective than summoning something, though also incredibly difficult over long distances. Upon coming to Hogwarts Harry had been fairly surprised—and amused—to find out that wizards hadn't come up with anything similar.

Harry appeared with another quiet pop into the Apparition point in Diagon Alley. There were a few people milling around and hurrying down the streets, but most everyone had already left. The majority of the people whom were left had cloaks on similar to his own.

Ignoring the people around him, Harry purposefully strode down the Alley. He had been doing this—visiting Diagon Alley, that is—ever since he was first introduced to the magical world. It was the main way that he'd bought most of the books that he had. Dumbledore never knew of course, but then Dumbledore actually knew very little about him.

Once again pushing his memories out of his mind, Harry continued down the street. Before long he approached the large white building of Gringotts. In the waning light of the sun the building gleamed and Harry was filled with a sense of awe that filled him every time his eyes fell on the building. Harry would swear that the goblins had some sort of spell worked into the wards on the building to inspire that effect in people. Harry smirked lightly in the shadow of his hood and entered the Wizarding bank.

Inside the building there were only a few witches and wizards, but many goblins hurrying around. Striding up to the first teller, Harry didn't wait for the goblin to acknowledge him, but instead immediately spoke in a hushed tone.

"I need to speak with Grimsheild."

The goblin before him immediately looked up in surprise. He studied Harry for a moment then, his mouth tight, before nodding. Without a word the goblin hopped down from his seat, setting a "closed" sign before his booth. The goblin then hurried for a hallway off to the side without even checking to make sure that Harry was following him.

Rolling his eyes at the suspicion of the goblin Harry strode after the teller, easily keeping up with the shorter being. After a few minutes of walking, the goblin stopped before an office door that Harry had visited many times before. Casting one last glance at Harry, the goblin quickly walked back the way he had come, leaving Harry to go inside.

Sighing quietly, Harry knocked purposefully on the door. After a moment, a voice inside finally answered and Harry quietly slipped inside, carefully closing the door behind him.

The office that he stepped into was one that seemed to belong in a muggle building. The wall that the door was on and the two walls on his left and right were covered in bookshelves that were filled with books of all shapes and sizes. The wall opposite him however was covered in filing cabinets from top to bottom. Harry knew that these, too, were completely filled, though this time with innumerous files.

In the middle of the room sat a large wooden desk that was covered in multiple stacks of papers and a couple of books. Two comfortable chairs sat in front of the desk, one sitting behind it. In that chair sat a goblin whose pen was scribbling furiously across a paper. The goblin looked to be a bit older than most of the tellers Harry'd seen, though certainly not elderly, with a pair of slim glasses resting across the bridge of his nose.

At the sound of the door clicking shut behind Harry, the older goblin looked up. The moment he saw who had entered his office, the goblin grinned widely, showing his numerous sharp teeth.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Potter."

Harry grinned in reply and dropped the glamour around him. He always wore that disguise when going into the Wizarding world, so Grimsheild had immediately known who he was.

"You too, Grimsheild," Harry replied as he dropped down into on of the chairs before the goblins desk. With a sigh, he pulled back his hood and rested his arms on the arms of the chair.

Grimsheild was the account manager for the Potter family, and had been for nearly two hundred years. The goblin himself was approaching three hundred years of age which, while old for a goblin, was no where near their death age. No, Grimsheild was still a few centuries away from being considered elderly.

Harry had first met Grimsheild when he had come to Gringotts for the second time during the beginning of the summer after his first year. He had done some research during that school year and found out that all families had an account manager, and though the Potters didn't rank as an old, rich Wizarding family, they'd still been around for quite a few centuries. Surprised that he had not been told this by Dumbledore or anyone, Harry had come to Gringotts inquiring to see his account manager and find out the state of his accounts.

Again to Harry's surprise, he had found out from Grimsheild that his trust account was only a small portion of money that had been set aside by his parents for his schooling. The rest of the Potter's finances were in the main Potter family vault, which he would gain access to once he reached the age of seventeen and was considered an adult in the eyes of the Wizarding world. In the meantime however, the trust vault was more than enough for Harry, even with all of the extra purchases that he would make during the summer.

Grimsheild had also informed Harry that the Potters had scores of investments in both the muggle and magical worlds, including shares in quite a few businesses. All of these were currently under Grimsheild's control, whom Harry had given the right to make investments as he saw fit for the Potters. There were a couple properties that the Potters' owned as well, but Harry had checked up on all of them, and they all were quite run down and unsuitable to live in since they had been abandoned for many years.

Harry was honestly surprised, and more than a little disappointed, that to this day no one had told him about the Potters' wealth, not even Remus or Sirius. He'd purposely never asked about it, hoping that at least one of them would say something, but alas, it was not to be.

Turning his thoughts away from his memories, Harry focused back on Grimsheild. The goblin was looking at him expectantly, his hands clasped before him on the desk.

"As usual," Harry began, "I need to take out some gold."

"The usual amount?"

"That should do for now."

"Alright," Grimsheild replied. He reached into one of the drawers of his desk and removed a relatively small sack of gold. Harry took it and tucked it away in his cloak.

Because Grimsheild was the account manager for his vaults, the goblin could instantly access his money. However, he could only withdraw money from the accounts on the request of one of the family members. As Harry was the only remaining Potter—and he _had_ checked to make sure that there was no other family members that Dumbledore had neglected to tell him about—he was now the only one whom could take money from any of the Potter vaults.

Grimsheild studied Harry for a moment. "From what you said before, I'm going to have to guess that there is something else that you need. Would you like to check up on the state of your investments? Or perhaps inquire on the amount of gold left in your trust vault?"

Harry smiled grimly. "Not today," he replied. "Actually, there's something...else...that I need to ask you."

Grimsheild looked at him carefully, curious as to what the teen was going to ask. "Yes?"

Harry took a deep breath, not sure whether asking this was the right thing to do. But then again, if he was going to ask anyone, a goblin, especially one whom he knew well, was probably the best way to go.

"Do you know of any way that I can get into contact with Silvia Mikhailova?"

Grimsheild faltered, his eyes going wide. "H-how do you...?"

Harry gulped, and then decided to just dive into the entire explanation. He had never wanted to tell anyone what he was about to explain to Grimsheild, but if there was even the slightest chance that he was a mage, then he needed to do this.

"For as long as I can remember I've been able to use magic—controlled magic. For a long time I thought that I was just different. Then when I turned eleven I found out about the magical world. I thought then that it all made sense; I was a wizard and what I could do was magic. However, it was not much longer until I found out that wizards had to use wands to perform magic, and that what little magic they could perform without one was completely uncontrollable and called accidental magic.

"The problem continued when I went to the wand store. I found that wand after wand had no effect whatsoever with my magic. It was comparable to attempting to get some random stick off a tree to perform magic. In the end, I just randomly chose one wand and used my own magic to make it look like it had reacted.

"And so I found that I was once again different. For the past five years I've carefully hidden my abilities, making it appear as though I'm just a normal wizard. However, at the end of this past year I came across a book by pure happenstance. This book explained in detail numerous different races of magical beings. And not just the magical beings of the Ministry of Magic, but born vampires and werewolves, elves, fayeries, and...mages."

Grimsheild stared at Harry for a moment, unable to move. After a minute he carefully composed himself and then studied Harry much closer than he had before. Finally, he spoke. "Show me," he commanded, his voice brooking no nonsense.

Harry immediately complied and raised one hand up. Grabbing a hold of several books on the shelf to his right with his magic, he pulled them toward him. Instantaneously, three books shot off the shelf and into his hand. Looking up again, Harry grinned at the surprised look on Grimsheild's face and then, with a wave of his hand, sent the books back to their proper places.

"...Well..." Grimsheild started, straightening up once more. Suddenly, he grinned a wide, toothy grin that, on a goblin, rarely meant anything good. "Imagine the looks on the faces of the Wizarding world if they found out that their savior isn't even a wizard, but a mage! A magical being!" He cackled then, terribly amused with the picture in his head.

Harry himself couldn't help but chuckle as well; that would be a sight to see. Suddenly, however, a part of what Grimsheild had just said dawned on him.

"Wait!" Harry gasped. "You mean I really am a mage?!"

Grimsheild grinned at Harry. "Well it certainly seems like it. There isn't much else of a reason for you to be able to do what you can do, plus what you just described to me—and showed me—fits the description of a mage perfectly." Grimsheild paused for a moment before becoming a bit more serious. "I'm guessing that you would like to speak to Headmistress Mikhailova about possibly entering Silvermoor Academy?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, though I also was going to question about whether or not I actually _was_ a mage."

Grimsheild smirked once more. "Well," he said. "I think that I can arrange a meeting between you two. Please wait here for a moment." He stood up at Harry's nod and padded out of the office.

Harry sat and waited for about ten minutes, his mind reeling with the information that he actually was a mage. He honestly couldn't quite believe it yet, even though he'd been hoping for the last week that it was true. Finally however, Grimsheild returned, a small grin on his face. Sitting back down at his desk, the older goblin spoke.

"You're lucky; I was able to get in contact with Headmistress Mikhailova and she's free right now. She has agreed to meet with you, but only for a short while."

Harry's eyes widened and a goofy grin lit up his face. He was actually going to have a chance to go to Silvermoor Academy! Seeing his expression, Grimsheild chuckled.

"Here," he said tossing Harry a muggle pen. Harry stared at the object in his hand, confused. Seeing Harry's expression, Grimsheild chuckled. "It's a portkey," he clarified. "It will take you to Headmistress Mikhailova's office and, later, back to here. Simply say 'Mikhailova' to activate it and then 'Gringotts' to return."

Harry nodded his thanks to the older goblin. He then took a deep breath, holding tightly onto the portkey in his hand. He knew that the upcoming conversation would change the fate of his life.

"Mikhailova."

Instantly, Harry felt the familiar feeling of a jerk behind his naval before the scene around him shifted. As Harry reoriented himself, he glanced around the new office that he was in and found that, unlike what he would have expected, it was somewhat...muggle-like.

It was a fairly large square shaped room with smooth hardwood floors. The wall to his left held two large bookcases, while the wall to his right held a single case filled with various objects, none of which Harry had ever seen before. Behind him was door, which presumably led out of the office. The rest of the space on the walls was filled with various paintings of different sceneries.

Turning his attention away from the walls, Harry focused his attention forward where an oak desk stood. Sitting behind that desk was a woman who was watching him with interest clear on her face. Straightening up and gulping slightly, Harry walked forward until he was standing in front of the desk. As he did, the woman, Headmistress Mikhailova, stood up.

Harry wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting, but this woman wasn't it. She didn't look to be a day over 30, though Harry knew that she had to be at least several hundred years old. She stood at about 5'8 and had obsidian black eyes, straight blue hair held back in bun with a pair of long bangs framing her face. Her skin was very pale, but nowhere near the white of vampires. If anything, it had a slightly bluish tint to it. She was wearing a simple black dress with very wide sleeves.

The last thing about Mikhailova that stood out was the pair of pointed ears that she had. Harry suddenly remembered that the book, _Branches of Magic_, had said that Headmistress Mikhailova was an ice elf. Well, that would certainly account for her ears and skin. Offhandedly, Harry couldn't help but wonder if all ice elves looked like her.

Mikhailova smirked. "Welcome, Harry Potter," she greeted, and Harry noticed that she had a fairly strong Russian accent. She sat down and Harry hesitantly followed suit, sinking into one of the chairs sitting before her desk.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Headmistress," Harry replied smoothly, carefully hiding his nervousness.

Mikhailova nodded approvingly at his control of emotions while folding her hands before her. Cutting straight to the chase she looked Harry in the eye, "I hear that there is a distinct possibility that you are a mage."

Straightening his shoulders, Harry nodded. "Yes," he replied, "Grimsheild, the goblin who is my account manager, seemed sure of it."

Mikhailova titled her head towards Harry, signaling him to continue his explanation. Taking a deep breath, Harry did so, repeating the explanation that he had just told Grimsheild. Once he'd finished, Mikhailova was watching him with sharp eyes.

"Interesting..." she murmured. Suddenly, she leaned forward over her desk, looking Harry straight in the eye. "And you say that you have had complete control over your abilities for as long as you can remember?" Harry nodded. "As much control as you have today?" Another nod. "Your control has been the same level—a high level—for that long?" Harry nodded once more and Mikhailova leaned back in her seat, threading her hands under her chin. "...Interesting..."

Harry stared at the headmistress, completely confused about where she was going with this.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter," Mikhailova continued, "Exactly what is the title of the book that you mentioned?"

"Erm," Harry hesitated, trying to remember the author's name. "I believe it was _Branches of Magic_ by Eoly Riellendri."

Mikhailova's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "Hmm," she began, staring off into a point in space. "That book must be quite old for you to have found it in a _wizard's_ library. It's a good thing that those books are spelled to be self updating...Well, Mr. Potter, it would seem that you are indeed a mage."

Harry blinked. "You...you're not going to ask me to show you my abilities or anything?"

Mikhailova chuckled. "No," she replied. "Grimsheild has already explained to me what you did. That and I can tell that you're a magical being from your aura."

Harry blinked once more. "My...aura?"

"Yes," Mikhailova smirked. She didn't expound on her previous statement however and instead just moved on to the next topic. "I presume that the reason you are here is because you would like to attend the Silvermoor Academy of Magic, correct?" Once again, Harry nodded in reply. "Well, you do understand that Silvermoor is a prestigious school which even mages have difficulty getting into, right? And that on top of that the majority of the student body is made up of vampires, werewolves, elves, and fayeries?

"Please understand, Mr. Potter, that Silvermoor is nothing like Hogwarts. The curriculum is much harsher and we do not cater to our students in the same way that it does. About 30% of the students who attend are killed in some way or another before they get the chance to graduate. Hogwarts teaches students how to perform spells. We teach students how to harness their magic in order to survive.

"We also focus a lot more on physical condition than Wizarding schools. You are required to master at least one weapon during your time at the school. Knowing this, would you still like to attend Silvermoor Academy?"

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation. "The teaching that Silvermoor offers is exactly the kind of experience that I need. War is about to break out, Headmistress, even if only among wizards, and I need to prepare in whatever way possible."

Mikhailova sighed. "Yes, I suppose you do," she replied. Suddenly, her mouth tightened and her eyes turned very serious. "However, this war may be farther reaching than you'd think."

Harry stared at the ice elf before him, confused. He didn't get a chance to question what she meant though, because at that moment she moved on to the next subject.

"Well," Mikhailova said with a sigh, "If it's true that you've been able to control your magic for as long as you can remember, and have been able to hide from wizards for the past five years, then I believe that we do have a place for you a Silvermoor Academy."

Harry was caught between elation and confusion. Acting on the second feeling, he immediately spoke. "Thank you very much, ma'am," Harry began. "But...Why do you seem surprised that I have always been able to control my magic?"

Mikhailova smirked at the teen before her. "Mr. Potter, you may not know this, but the connection that magical beings have with their core strengthens over time. At a young age magical beings are able to do magic, but it is only a very small amount. Even levitating something takes a lot of energy, let alone moving the object around while levitating it.

"It is for this reason that Silvermoor is for students ages 16-20; as I'm sure you've read in Branches of Magic. By the age of sixteen magical beings have for the most part solidified their magical channels and can use their magic to its fullest extent. Another reason for the age group is because of magical beings' magical maturity. Like wizards, our magical maturity begins at age eighteen. Unlike them, however, our maturity lasts until we're twenty, at which time our magic completely settles down."

Harry's eyebrows rose, surprised. This was something that book certainly had never mentioned. He had wondered before why the school didn't accept younger children, but now it made perfect sense. It was pure coincidence that he had found the book when he had; just a month before he turned sixteen.

'_Great,_' Harry thought. '_So I'm different than mages too..._' He held back a sigh; this could mean that he was more powerful too, if that was what Mikhailova was insinuating.

"Well," Mikhailova continued after giving Harry a moment to process the new information. "The next step is for you to register for the classes you would like to take." Harry sat up straighter in his chair after hearing this, interested. "Please understand that there are different types of classes. First there are several core classes that will last all four years of your schooling. These are mandatory and you must take them. The rest are elective and usually last 1-2 years, depending on how well you do in the class. There are also several classes which have prerequisites. For those classes there are others which you must take first, and often you must also get a recommendation to move on."

Mikhailova pulled out a piece of paper from a drawer and slid it across the desk to Harry. "Here is the complete list of classes. The ones that require prerequisites are marked, along with their prerequisite. You may pick eight classes, including the mandatory ones, which are also marked. Choose wisely."

Taking a deep breath, Harry picked up the sheet and let his eyes drift over the list. A few of them made his eyes widen, like death magic, which had a prerequisite of soul magic, which also made his eyes widen. Several of them, however, he was familiar with, like transfiguration. Still, Harry knew that even that would be far different, since he would be around people who used magic in the same way he did. And that, truly, was what excited him the most about attending Silvermoor.

After a couple minutes Harry finally came to a decision. "Well," he began as he cleared his throat, "First are the mandatory classes of course: Magical Theory, Enchantment, Transfiguration, Physical Arts, and Magical Control. For the other three classes, I'll take Elemental Manipulation, Magical Creatures, and Soul Magic." Harry wasn't entirely sure about the magical creatures' class, but from what little the book, _Branches of Magic_, had mentioned about them, they were quite often much more dangerous than the ones studied at Hogwarts. Harry figured that the more he knew, the better his chances of surviving were.

Mikhailova smirked once more and took the paper back, marking down the classes that Harry had stated as she did so. Once that was done, she took out another sheet of paper and handed it to Harry.

"This," she said, "Is the list of items that you will need to acquire before school starts. Silvermoor doesn't use textbooks, but the books on the list are ones that you will want to get, and possibly even read before school starts. You should be able to get all of these items in the wizarding world, even if you have to look a little harder than usual." Harry nodded his thanks and slipped the paper into his pocket after only a quick glance at it.

"Before I go," Harry began, "There's something else that I have to ask." Mikhailova signaled the dark haired teen to go on, and he did so after taking another deep breath. "I would like to attend the school under an assumed name."

Mikhailova raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming to her face. "So then, you don't want anyone to know who you are?" Harry nodded. "I suppose we can do that; you'd be surprised at the number of students—often mages—who just that for one reason or another. You'll have to come up with a back story yourself, but what is the name that you'd like me to register you under?"

Harry paused for a moment, racking his brain for a name, when the perfect idea came to him.

"Gray," he said thoughtfully. "Blake Gray."

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A/N: And the Potter family hasn't turned out to be super rich or super old (**gasps**) Sorry, but I've always found that particular plotline to be more than a bit unrealistic. There's never been anything in the canon to point to the Potters being a rich, old aristocratic family, so there won't be any here either. Also, the name Blake can mean _both_ black and white in old English. Hence why it was chosen.

Oh, and I've also got another story out right now, though really it's more of a collection of one-shots. Humorous, parody-ridden one-shots. Please check out and tell me what you think!

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	4. Chapter 4: The Summer

Title: Shades of Gray: The Summer  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 4,653  
Story WC: 18,797  
Last Edited: November 14, 2008  
Posted: September 4, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 4  
_The Summer_

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A brown haired, brown eyed Harry Potter walked out of Grimsheild's office. It had taken a few minutes to get everything straightened out with Headmistress Mikhailov, but soon after giving out his new name they had said goodbye and parted ways. After that, Harry had gotten more gold from his accounts from Grimsheild—he knew he would need it, considering the list that he now held. And now here he was, with his glamour back on, heading out of Gringotts.

Harry walked straight out of the building without glancing at anyone around him. The bank was almost deserted now, though that wasn't too surprising considering as it was probably about ten at night. Regardless, Harry pushed through the large double doors of the bank's entrance and stepped out into the Alley.

Completely ignoring the shops of Diagon Alley, Harry silently swept down the street until he came to the entrance of Knockturn Alley. He paused there and pulled his hood up further so that his face was completely hidden. Unlike Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley truly came alive at night so now was probably the best time for him to shop. Plus, it was also when the shops put out some of their more...questionable...items.

Slipping into the alley, Harry strode forward with his back straight and his shoulders squared. Knockturn Alley was certainly not a place to act meek.

Harry completely ignored the street venders hawking their wares along the alley, and instead made a beeline for a bookstore that he was pretty sure would have all of the books that were on the list that Mikhailov had given him.

Once inside the store, Harry gave his eyes barely a moment to adjust to the gloom of the shop. He then located the shopkeeper at the back of the large room and, keeping an eye on him, began to flit around the store, picking up the books that were on the list as well as a few others that caught his eye. Among them, the most interesting of the books on the list Harry would have to say was _Deadly Magical Creatures_ by Uimill Drirnan and _Understanding Politics_ by Taiwil Anowynne.

Once he had picked out everything he needed, Harry took his stack of books to the counter at the back of the store. The haggard looking older wizard who was the shopkeeper stared at Harry suspiciously for a moment before quickly ringing up the books and then roughly murmuring out the total price.

Staring straight at the wizard—who was starting to shift uneasily under his gaze—Harry pulled out the correct amount and handed it to the shopkeeper. He then reached into his cloak and, while his hand was hidden, conjured a wand-shaped stick of wood. Harry pulled it out and tapped the stack of books before him with it and murmured what he knew was the shrinking spell. As he did so he reached out with his own magic and shrunk the books before slipping them and the "wand" into his pant's pocket. He decided to keep the wand for now, in case he needed it again.

With a last nod to the shopkeeper, Harry swept out of the shop and into the narrow alley once more without a word. The next item that was on the list surprised Harry a bit. '_A ritual knife?_' he thought unsurely. Sighing quietly, he ignored his confusion for the time being and headed to where he knew a weapon shop was, in the back of the alley.

The outside of shop was small, dark, and dusty, and the inside of the store turned out to be exactly what the outside suggested. It was dark and cramped with shelves that seemed to hold nothing of any real value, just a bunch of old, rusty weapons that looked as if they'd seen better days a few centuries ago. Slowly Harry picked his way across the store toward the back where a counter was, twitching slightly as a rat came out of a dusty corner and ran across his path. It disappeared into a hole in the floorboards soon after.

Attempting to hide his disgust, Harry stopped before the small counter at the back, where the shopkeeper was standing, watching him. He was a scarred, Japanese man, with graying hair, a crooked nose and a pointed little goatee. Sharp black eyes focused on Harry, studying him. Before Harry could open his mouth however, the oriental man's face split into a wide grin.

"It's a pleasure to have you in my shop, young man," the shopkeeper greeted in a rough voice. "What can I do for you today?"

Harry blinked in surprise at the man's cheerful—something truly out of place in Knockturn Alley—greeting. "Erm," he began hesitantly. "I'm looking for some weapons..."

The man cackled, causing Harry stare at him even more strangely. "Well then, it appears that you haven't completely wandered into the wrong shop. Is there anything in particular that you're looking for?"

"Yes, actually," Harry replied. He was a little wary about having come into the shop now; this man seemed to be missing more than a couple of marbles. "I'm looking for a ritual knife."

"Ah, one of those types, eh?" the man commented, waggling his eyebrow suggestively.

"Er, types?" Now Harry was completely lost, but the man just cackled again and leapt out from behind the counter with speed and agility belying his age. He began to stride off—completely ignoring Harry's question—when he suddenly stopped and spun around on his heel, making Harry jerk in surprise.

"Kenmaru, by the way," he said, giving Harry a short bow.

"Ah, it's nice to meet you. I'm Marcus," Harry replied, saying the first name that popped into his mind while giving Kenmaru a hesitant and sloppy bow in return.

"Warlike, eh?"

Harry blinked again. "...Warlike...?"

"Yes," Kenmaru replied with a chuckle. "Marcus is Latin for warlike. Didn't you know?"

Harry stared at the man with wide eyes. Of all the names he could have chosen... "N-no," he answered. Then, realizing how he was acting, Harry carefully pulled his emotions together. No one had ever managed to throw Harry off so easily, but this old man was doing it without even trying! He was going to have to be more careful around him; people, especially older people, didn't open shops on Knockturn Alley without knowing how to take care of themselves.

Harry followed Kenmaru as he strode toward a door in the back corner of the shop—well more like bounced actually, but that was beside the point. The door opened up to a hall just as dark and dusty as the rest of the shop.

Kenmaru quickly headed inside, but Harry paused in the doorway. Harry was far from naïve and knew how incredibly dangerous it was to follow a seemingly insane old man down a narrow hallway to Merlin knows where. Still, he thought, a dark smirk flitting across his face, he had a large advantage: He didn't need a wand to do magic.

Breathing deeply, Harry moved into the hallways, walking carefully behind Kenmaru. He was still on full alert, and thus tensed as Kenmaru stopped before another door at the end of the short hallway before passing through it.

The large room on the other side of the door was the exact opposite of the rest of the store. It was clean and well lit, with walls filled with racks and shelves that held weapons of all sorts, including some that Harry had never seen before. The middle of the room was similarly filled with multiple cases of weapons.

Harry stood in the doorway of the room, gaping in shock. The front room must be just for show! This, apparently, was where all of the real products were kept.

"Whoa," Harry breathed as he gravitated to the nearest shelf and stared at the large axe displayed there. None of the weapons in the room were very flashy, but from what little Harry knew about blades they were of very good quality.

Harry said so to Kenmaru, who just chuckled in reply. "Of course they are," the older man said. "I get only the best, because I know the best contacts."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he asked dubiously. "How?"

Kenmaru shot Harry a smirk, but it didn't hide the sad glint in his eyes. Drifting away and looking across the room, the Japanese man sighed. "I used to be a top Auror, a long time ago," he said, staring off into space. "But then all of my team but one man was killed and well..." Suddenly Kenmaru was by Harry again, a large grin on his face." Well come on!" he said cheerfully. "I'll show you the ritual knives!"

A bounce in step once more, Kenmaru bounded off to a case in the back of the room. Harry stared off after him, surprised. After a moment he shook out of his stupor and quickly hurried over to the wizard's new position.

Kenmaru had stopped before a case that was filled with numerous daggers which all looked the most ornamental than any of the others in the room. Harry stopped beside the Japanese man and stared down at the elegant blades in slight awe.

"These," Kenmaru began, "Are the ritual knives that I have in my stock. Please look through them and pick out the first one that calls to you. The very _first_ one mind you."

Harry hummed in agreement and began to methodically go through each knife. As he did so, he spoke out about something that was on his mind, watching Kenmaru from the corner of his eye as he did so.

"An Auror..." Harry commented. "If you're really a retired Auror then why are you here of all places, in Knockturn Alley?"

Kenmaru chuckled. "We all have to make a living somehow," he replied. "Weaponry has always been what I'm best at, and there aren't many other places to sell my wares."

Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced at Kenmaru, momentarily forgetting about the knife in his hand. "But aren't you worried about the Ministry finding out about what you're selling? I mean, as a retired Auror then you'd think that the Ministry would be even harder on you..."

"I've got connections," Kenmaru said, quirking a grin. "I'll know far before hand if I have anything to worry about. And besides, the Ministry has already gone to hell."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle in reply. It was true; the Ministry was already almost completely corrupted and Harry doubted that even kicking Fudge out of office would change that.

Focusing his attention back on the ritual knives, Harry suddenly froze as he looked down at the knife that was currently in his hand. It was simply incredible. It had a smooth black handle with a half circle gold hand guard, both of which were designed very elegantly. The blade itself, however, was what really caught his eye. It was a blade made of silver with a golden support running halfway up in the length of the blade. The silver, Harry noticed as he looked at it closely, was completely covered in little engravings.**(1)**

Abruptly, Harry noticed that Kenmaru was leaning over his shoulder, just inches from his face. With a yelp, the dark haired teen leapt backwards, his heart beating wildly. Despite this reaction Kenmaru just ignored him and continued to stare at the blade.

"Ah," the older man said suddenly as a grin crossed his face. "How interesting, that you would choose this blade."

"Sir...?" Harry stated hesitantly as he straightened himself out once more.

Kenmaru looked up at him then, his eyes sparkling. "It is made entirely of gold and silver, as you can tell. Usually this would not work at all for a weapon of any type, even a ritual knife, because the metals are far too malleable. The silver, however, is engraved with hundreds of tiny runes that harden the blade and give it extreme strength. This knife is perfect for rituals."

Kenmaru held the knife out for Harry, who hesitantly took it. Staring down at the blade again, Harry couldn't help but marvel at how well it fit in his grip.

"Also," Kenmaru suddenly began. "You will have to be very careful with this knife." Harry looked at Kenmaru questioningly. "Because of the runes on the blade, this knife will be fairly testy around magic. You will never be able to perform magic on the blade, be it to shrink it or summon it—though that could be a good thing."

Harry nodded in understanding, looking down at the blade with renewed awe. To have a weapon that couldn't be summoned would be very helpful, even if it only was a ritual knife.

"Now," Kenmaru said, clapping his hands together, "Is there anything else that I can get for you?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. Headmistress Mikhailov had told him students would receive their weapons at the school itself, but it couldn't hurt to have an extra weapon on him for protection, especially in these times. And if it were just something small...

"...Do you have any daggers?" Harry asked uncertainly. "Nothing to large or extravagant: just something for a little extra protection."

Kenmaru smirked. "I think I have just the thing for you."

Kenmaru darted across the room, heading straight for a case in the middle of the room. He bent down there and picked something up off the bottom of the shelf, something that Harry hadn't even noticed before.

Standing up again, Kenmaru turned to face Harry, who had come up behind him. The old shopkeeper held out what he had picked up to Harry, who suddenly felt his breath get caught in his throat. Shakily, he stretched out a hand and picked up the dagger that Kenmaru had picked out. Now this, this was true craftsmanship. It was so elegant that it made his ritual knife look like a shoddy pile of metal.

The dagger couldn't have been much more than a foot long. The handle and hand guard was made of a black metal with designs carved into it. The gleaming silver blade of the dagger was shaped in a way that he'd never seen on a dagger before; one side of it was an elegant S-curve, while the other side—the back of the dagger—had a sharp wave like design to the edge of the metal, making it appear very dangerous. In the middle of the blade was a small three inch long carving of what looked like fire.**(2)**

"That is one of the greatest works that I have," Kenmaru commented as he watched Harry examine the dagger. "I believe it will fit you well."

Harry looked up at the retired Auror. "This...this is incredible."

Kenmaru chuckled and then turned around once more. "I'm guessing that you'll need a sheath for each of your blades."

"Uh, yes..."

Kenmaru disappeared behind a few cases but, just a moment later, reappeared again with two leather sheathes in hand. "Here," he said, passing them to Harry. "Now let's head up front to the register."

Harry nodded as he slipped his two new blades into the black leather sheathes that he'd been given. He followed Kenmaru to the front of the shop then, his nose wrinkling ever so slightly at the extreme difference between the front room and the room that he'd been in moments before. They stopped at the counter in the back of the store, which Kenmaru quickly slipped behind. Then taking a second glance at the two sheathed blades in Harry's hands, the older man quickly calculated out the cost of the weaponry.

"17 galleons, 9 sickles, and 12 knuts," Kenmaru finally said. "I'm throwing the sheaths in for free, mind you." He gave Harry a pointed look. "And only 'cause I like you, kid."

Harry mumbled his thanks and pulled out his money. That was a pretty good sum of money, but Harry knew that the blades were worth it. In hindsight, it had been a very good idea to get some more money from Grimsheild before he'd left Gringotts Bank.

After handing the stated amount of money over to Kenmaru, Harry stared down at the weapons in his hands, unsure as to where to put them. He couldn't shrink them, because the ritual knife was impervious to magic, but neither could he just wear them around his waist; even with his cloak on they'd be too obvious.

Seeing Harry's dilemma, Kenmaru spoke up. "I'd recommend that you place them within your boots," he said. "It keeps them out of sight but allows for easy access if needed."

Blinking in surprise, Harry stared down at his boots. '_Yeah,_' he thought, '_That could work._' Harry bent down and slipped the ritual knife into his left boot and the dagger in his right boot. It was a bit uncomfortable, he noticed as he straightened up again, but he figured that he'd get used to it. Plus, with the way that the sheathes fit in his boots, when he pulled on the handle of either of the weapons, only the weapon would come out and the sheath would remain in place; _that_ would be really helpful.

Stating his thanks once more, Harry shook hands with Kenmaru and headed back out of the shop. As he did, he heard Kenmaru speak out behind him.

"Come again any time," the retired Auror called out. "And good luck, Harry."

It wasn't until Harry was half way down Knockturn Alley that he realized what name Kenmaru had called him by.

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After his strange encounter with Kenmaru, Harry had decided to head back to the Dursleys. He had gotten a bunch of items, and he still had the rest of the summer—five weeks—to get the few items that he still needed.

Thinking of that, Harry suddenly remembered a letter than Headmistress Mikhailov had given him just before he'd left. She had told him when handing Harry the letter that school would be starting on August 16th—which was two weeks before Hogwarts started—and that the letter would explain everything else he would need to know about getting to Silvermoor Academy.

Plopping down on his bed without even taking off his cloak, Harry pulled the letter out of his pocket and opened it up. As soon as he had, two plane tickets fell out and onto his lap. Surprised, Harry quickly read through the letter, his eyebrows rising as it did. Apparently on August 14th, at 10:25 AM, he would be taking a seven hour flight from Heathrow Airport, here in London, to the Baltimore-Washington International Airport in the United States of America. From there he would be taking a second flight from BWIA to Nuuk, the capital of Greenland.

Here, Harry's eyebrow reached his hairline. Silvermoor Academy of Magic was in _Greenland_ of all places?! Well, now that he thought about it, it _did_ kind of make sense. After all, who would look for a magical school in such a cold, desolate place like Greenland?

Continuing to read, Harry found that once in Nuuk he would be directed as to where he would be staying for the night. Then, on the 15th, all of the students would be taken to the Academy.

Sighing, Harry glanced down at the two plane tickets that were still resting in his lap. Well, he'd never been on an airplane before...Harry couldn't help but be curious as to if it was anything like flying on a broom.

Harry tucked the tickets back into the letter and then set it on his bedside table. Going to Silvermoor was something that he definitely wanted to do, but he was still nervous. What would it be like to be around people who were like him? To not have to hide his abilities anymore? And even more so, how would his current friends react when he didn't show up at Hogwarts on September 1st? The students who had been in the DA would be especially disappointed. But no matter how he felt, Harry knew that he couldn't tell anyone that he was leaving until he actually did. Though, even then, he actually couldn't tell them because he no longer had an owl, and the Order had left him with no way to contact them that summer.

Sighing once more, Harry laid back on his bed, only to quickly sit up again when he felt the shrunken book in his pocket digging into his side. Harry stood up and moved over his trunk, taking his cloak off as he did so. At the same time he remembered that he still had his glamour on and then cursed himself for being so careless. What if one of the Dursleys or an Order member had walked in! Harry quickly removed it and then focused on the trunk before him.

Harry couldn't help but smirk as he looked at the trunk. It appeared to be the simple school trunk that he'd bought with Hagrid, but it wasn't. Just after meeting with Grimsheild during the summer after his first year, Harry had left to buy a new trunk. While in the trunk store with Hagrid he had seen some trunks with multiple compartments and he'd known that he would need that in order to hide some of his purchases.

And the trunk before him was what Harry had bought. It was nearly identical to his first trunk, but it had three compartments. The first two were average and looked just like the inside of a normal trunk—albeit there being two instead of one—but the third trunk was a small room, with a ladder leading down into. Harry used the first compartment for all of the items that people knew that he had—including his invisibility cloak. The second one he used for all of his other items, which he had bought over the years. The third compartment, however, he had transformed into a miniature library. It was there that he kept all the books that he had bought.

Placing his hand on the single lock that the trunk had, he murmured, "Gamma" and the lid immediately popped open. The lock was keyed into his magical signature and had passwords for each compartment—though the first one could also be opened with a conventional key. The first compartment was alpha, the second beta, and the third gamma.

Harry opened the trunk's lid completely and stared down. There was a ladder before him, which led down into a small room. Making sure that the shrunken books were still in his pocket, Harry lowered himself into the trunk and climbed down the ladder. Once at the bottom, he glanced around.

The room itself was probably only about 10 feet by 10 feet with a ceiling about 8 feet high. All four of the walls were covered in bookshelves which reached from the floor to the ceiling. Said bookshelves were for the most part filled with books; Harry had gotten quite a collection over the years. He estimated that he had about 200 or so books. Of course, Harry hadn't read all of them yet; he had scanned through most of them though.

Moving quickly for fear of someone coming into his room and seeing him, Harry pulled his new books out of his pocket and un-shrunk them. Seeing that he still had the fake wand, Harry shrugged and then transfigured it back into air. Glancing around the small library, Harry tucked the books into an empty shelf. He turned to leave, then, after hesitating for a second, turned back around and pulled _Understanding Politics _by Taiwil Anowynne off the shelf again; this one he wanted to read. After all, if he wanted to gain some power in this new world that he would be entering as some no name mage, then he would need to know what he was doing.

Harry climbed back out of his trunk and then opened the first compartment. He tucked his black cloak away from where he'd gotten it, making sure that his copy of _Branches of Magic_ was still safe. After closing the trunk once more, Harry proceeded to collapse down onto his bed and dive straight into _Understanding Politics_.

He had a feeling that he'd be doing a lot of reading this summer, even more than usual.

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Blearily, Harry opened his eyes to the darkness of the night. He sat up in bed and groped around on his bedside table until his found his glasses, which he promptly slid on. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Harry looked around once more and caught sight of the clock, which read 11:59 in glaring red. He couldn't figure out, however, why he had woken up at such a later hour.

It had been three weeks since Harry had spoken with Headmistress Mikhailov; four weeks since school had ended. That meant that it was the end of July, and at the end of July was—

Harry abruptly gasped at the same time as the clock's time changed to 12:00. Harry groaned and dropped back down on his bed so that he was staring at the ceiling. It was officially July 31st, his birthday. Why the heck did he always wake up just before midnight? It was almost starting to get annoying.

At least, Harry thought with a sigh at he placed his hands behind his head, he was now sixteen. This gave him at least some measure of freedom with the British muggle law. And this was, of course, crucial to his plan on getting away from the Dursleys permanently. After all, in Great Britain teens of sixteen years of age could get a job, rent an apartment, and do nearly anything so long as they had their guardians consent, and Harry planned on using this loophole to its fullest.

Dumbledore and the others believed that he was too deep in his grief to do anything—and him rarely coming out of his room helped that belief—so they weren't watching him as close as they probably should. Beyond that, none of the Order even knew much about muggle law anyway. Harry couldn't help but smirk. Once again, their ignorance would lead to their downfall.

Glancing over at his bedside table, Harry saw a book there. It looked exactly like his 5th year charms text book, but it wasn't. He had used his magic to make it look as though it was but if anyone actually opened the book they'd find out that it wasn't. Harry did that with all of the books that he kept out of his trunk just in case anyone ever came into his room; he didn't want anyone to find out his secret so close to him finally going to Silvermoor.

Harry had done quite a bit of reading in the past few weeks; he had already gotten through almost all of his new books. He had had nothing to do but read and practice magic anyway. Still, he was going through them even faster than normal, though Harry attributed that to excitement.

Indeed, Harry was positively ecstatic about getting to attend Silvermoor Academy. He knew that he probably should be nervous about going to school with vampires and werewolves, but he just couldn't bring himself to be. He'd learnt so much about them and there cultures from _Branches of Magic_ that he knew not to be; most of the legends and myths that muggles and wizards alike held about vampires and werewolves were complete rubbish. So, if anything, Harry couldn't wait to meet the two species and see what they actually were like.

But, Harry reminded himself as he turned over once more, he was going to have to wait. He had just two weeks until he'd get to leave.

Just two more weeks.

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**(1)** - A picture of this dagger can be found here: i300(DOT)photobucket(DOT)com/albums/nn35/Shadow_Rebirth/BlakesRitualDagger(DOT)jpg

**(2)** - A picture of this dagger can be found here: i300(DOT)photobucket(DOT)com/albums/nn35/Shadow_Rebirth/BlakesDagger(DOT)jpg

A/N: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I got caught up in some other things. And yes, Silvermoor starts earlier than Hogwarts does, so Harry will already be at the school for a little while before anyone even finds out that he's missing...But the moment that they _do_ find out will be very amusing to write, as many of you have been point out (**grins**) Please review!

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	5. Chapter 5: The Snake

Title: Shades of Gray: The Snake  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 6,513  
Story WC: 25,310  
Last Edited: November 14, 2008  
Posted: September 15, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 5  
_The Snake_

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On the evening of the 13th of August Harry was nervous as hell. He would be leaving tomorrow. _Tomorrow_. Just a few more hours.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pulled his black cloak out of his trunk. He was going to be going to Knockturn Alley again tonight to get the last couple of things that he needed; he had managed to get the rest over the past few weeks. Then, tomorrow morning, he would talk to his relatives before apparating to Heathrow Airport.

Glancing down and noticing that his hands were shaking, Harry took a second deep breath. He really needed to get his emotions under control. He'd always been so good about that, but this summer really seemed to be fraying his nerves.

Pushing all of his thoughts away and focusing on what needed to be done, Harry pulled his cloak on and changed his appearance. Thinking ahead, he transfigured another fake wand from air and tucked it into his pocket. Double checking to make sure that he had everything—and that Mundungus was indeed on duty again—Harry Apparated out of his room with a soft pop.

Appearing in Diagon Alley, Harry quickly swept toward Gringotts. Fortunately, he slipped into the routine of heading to the bank with ease, which helped to calm him down. Breathing deeply, he silently berated himself for loosing control so easily. Going to Silvermoor wasn't going to be a problem; it was just the fear of the unknown that was affecting him. After all, if what Mikhailova had said was true, then he was exceptionally powerful even for a mage.

Inside the bank, Harry asked for Grimsheild like he usually did and then, per usual, was led to the older goblins office. Grimsheild still looked the same as when he first saw him, Harry thought fondly as he stepped into his office. Grimsheild looked up as he did and promptly smirked.

"Well," Grimsheild said. "I'm not used to seeing you many times in one summer. This is what, your third visit?"

Harry grinned in reply. "Yep, but this'll be the last." Harry gulped then, before pushing his nerves down once more.

"Ah, yes," Grimsheild said, his face going serious. "You'll be leaving tomorrow, won't you?"

"Y-yes."

"Well then, I wish you the best of luck. May you prosper well in your proper environment."

Harry smiled at Grimsheild. "Thank you," he murmured. "For everything."

Grimsheild chuckled. "Of course. And, please, don't act like we won't see each other again. You'll see me the next time you come to Gringotts. I _am_ your account manager after all, no matter what country you are in." Grimsheild paused and then suddenly stood up. "Which reminds me," he murmured.

Grimsheild quickly strode around his desk to where Harry was standing near the door. "Come with me," the goblin said. "There's something else that I need to tell you about."

Blinking, Harry did so, following Grimsheild as he began to stride down the hall, moving further into Gringotts. The two of them stayed silent for several minutes, until Grimsheild finally spoke up.

"We," he began, "Are heading to what is known as Inner Gringotts. You could say that it's the Gringotts for magical beings." Grimsheild flashed Harry a grin then. Harry for part was surprised. Before he could question Grimsheild however, the goblin began to explain. "We goblins are magical creatures too, if you'll remember. As such we have created an entire section of the bank that is only for the use of magical beings. This is especially helpful since Gringotts in the only magical bank and wizards don't even know about the existence of most magic beings, let alone the extent of their society."

Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?" he asked. "I wouldn't have guessed, though, now that I think about it, that does make sense."

Grimsheild chuckled. "Yes, most wizards don't either," he stated. At that moment they stopped before a large pair of black wooden doors. Motioning Harry to stay back, Grimsheild approached the doors and laid a hand on the door handle. He waited like that for a moment until, suddenly, a flash of light surrounded the handles before spreading out across the door. It happened so quickly that if Harry had blinked, he would have missed it. Grimsheild removed his hand then, and the doors slowly grinded open by themselves.

What lay on the other side of large pair of double doors left Harry gaping in shock. It was a large room, nearly as large as the Great Hall at Hogwarts with a larger stained glass dome ceiling up above. There were numerous tellers lining the walls and many people of all different races walking about. Of them Harry recognized mages—whom all looked perfectly human—, a few vampires—which he could distinguish by their white skin—, some werewolves—they all had golden eyes—, a couple of elves—who all had pointed ears—, a handful of fayerie—with their pale hair and bluish-green skin—, as well as some veela and centaurs.

Harry stood in the door a moment longer, still staring. So these were magical beings; people very similar to him. Harry especially looked at those whom looked like average witches and wizards, knowing that they were mages like him. Had all of them attended Silvermoor too? Were some of them current students there?

Harry snapped out of his reverie when Grimsheild began to move into the room. As he followed the goblin Harry was careful to hide his awe; it wouldn't do to stand out now. Grimsheild kept moving until they were on the other side of the room. There, along the back wall, nearly fifty black disks were lying on the floor. These disks were about three feet in diameter and about four inches thick. Harry noticed that engraved in white on the disks were names; names of places it looked like.

As he watched, a vampire stepped up onto a disk that had "Berlin, Germany" written on it. The vampire stood still for a moment and, suddenly, a bright bluish light flashed up around him. When the light faded away, the vampire was gone. Harry turned to a grinning Grimsheild for explanation.

"These," Grimsheild told Harry. "Are transport disks. There is a set of these in every branch of Gringotts. When you step on a disk it will take you to corresponding disk in the branch stated on the disk. Using these you can instantly get to any Gringotts branch in the world."

Fascinated, Harry continued to examine the transport disks. As he did a disk towards the back suddenly flared up with the same bluish light that he'd seen earlier. When it faded a red haired elf was standing on the disk. She quickly stepped down and moved toward one of the tellers. Harry turned back to Grimsheild, amazement written across his face.

"This is incredible," he breathed. "I've never seen anything like it."

Grimsheild grinned at him. "Yes," he said. "That's goblin magic; we don't use our magic much, but when we do we do it for a reason. Transport disks, however, took a couple of centuries for us to complete. Their magic is complex beyond anything that you've probably seen." Grimsheild punctuated his sentence with a nod, pride on his face.

"Anyway," he continued. "No matter where you live, your family vaults are still here at this branch in Great Britain. Because of this you'll have to come here whenever you want to withdraw some money. For wizards this is difficult because it means that they have to either transfer all of their gold—which it difficult and expensive—or get an international portkey to return here. For magical creatures, however, the transport disks make life much easier. No matter where you are all you have to do is get to the nearest Gringotts and go to a transport disk.

"So, Harry, whenever you need to withdraw some gold, you're still going to have to come see me. However," Grimsheild paused then, looking Harry straight in the eye, "You do have to pay to use them. And the farther you're going, the more it costs. We don't run a free transport system, you have to understand."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I see."

Grimsheild grinned again. "Alright then!" he said. "Now let's get back to my office." Grimsheild abruptly turned on his heel and began striding away. Harry stood frozen in surprise for a moment before he quickly shook himself off and hurried after his family's account manager.

As the two traversed the long and confusing hallways of Gringotts, they once again were caught in silence. Harry, for his part, was too caught up in his thoughts to even notice his surroundings.

When they stopped in front of the door to Grimsheild's office, the older goblin looked up at Harry. "One last thing," he said. "Whenever you enter another Gringotts Bank branch, just tell a teller that you need to get to the Inner Gringotts. They'll take you there." Grimsheild looked Harry in the eye. "But be discreet about it please."

"I will, Grimsheild," Harry chuckled. "I will. You know me after all; I'm like discretion incarnate."

Grimsheild smirked toothily, flashing his sharp teeth. "That you are. That you are." Grimsheild suddenly held pulled out an empty bag. "The usual amount?"

"The usual amount."

Instantly the bad bulged with what looked like coins. Harry couldn't help but grin; it was always interesting to see that happen. Taking the now filled coin bag from Grimsheild, Harry tucked it inside his coat. Then bidding goodbye to Grimsheild, he headed out of the bank.

A few minutes later found Harry with his cloak pulled up as he strode down Knockturn Alley. His first stop was a potions and herbs store.

Stepping inside, Harry unconsciously wrinkled his nose at the smells that met his nose. If it weren't for the fact that he'd purchased from this store before, he'd think that it sold old, defective items. As it was however, the shop actually had quite a few rare and good quality substances. Harry was here because he needed some new potion equipment and ingredients; truly, Harry didn't like potions—Snape had almost completely turned him off it—but he understood how helpful it could be sometimes.

As soon as he had taken a couple of steps into the store a portly man with squinty eyes and thinning brown hair approached him. The man stared warily at him for a moment, until he caught a glimpse of Harry's brown eyed and haired face beneath his hood.

"Ah, Donovan!" the man greeted with a chuckle as he rubbed his hands together. Donovan was the name that Harry had given this man, and as such the name that he was known by whenever he stepped into this shop. "How are you?"

"Good, Connor, good. I have, however, found that I'm in need of a couple of things."

Connor immediately grinned, his eyes gleaming with the chance to make some money. "Well then, I'm sure that I've got exactly what you need! I just got a shipment of ashwinder eggs. Or perhaps some doxy wings would suit you better. Oh, I've even got a couple—

"No, Connor," Harry quickly interjected. He knew that the man would go on and on and list his entire inventory if given a chance. "I'm actually looking for a new cauldron. A good one."

Not even noticing that Harry had interrupted him, Connor quickly grinned again and began to move further into the shop, motioning Harry to follow. "Well why didn't you say so! I've got several high quality cauldrons that I think you'll like. I keep them in the back here."

Connor continued to ramble as he led Harry down a couple of isles of high shelves filled with potions ingredients. For the most part Harry tuned him out, but he kept an ear open just in case the man said anything of importance. Finally, Connor stopped before a wall that had about five cauldrons standing up against it. Immediately, Harry's eyes were drawn to one of them, which had to be the most outlandish cauldron that he had ever seen. It seemed to be made entirely of shining jewels placed together. Honestly, to Harry it looked for as though it belonged in a museum.

Seeing Harry's stare, Connor's grin widened. "That," he began, "Is a fire crab's shell. Yep, those tortoises' shells make highly prized cauldrons. They're so rare that is the first one I've ever managed to get. I can sell it to you for the low price of—"

"No thank you, Connor," Harry quickly said. "I need something a bit less...gaudy..."

Connor looked put out for a moment, but he quickly picked back up, intelligence flashing behind his eyes. "Well then," Connor continued. "I think I might have just the thing for you." Moving silently despite his large form, Connor approached a pure black cauldron that was standing off to the side. "This," he said as he ran a hand across the rim, "Is made entirely from spelled obsidian. You'll notice that there are runes engraved all around the rim. These help to prevent spills and strengthen the rock; this cauldron will never melt or suffer any major damage."

While Harry doubted that the cauldron was as indestructible as Connor said—the man certainly was known for embellishing his products—but from what he could tell it was pretty hardy. Harry studied the cauldron for a moment longer before nodding in satisfaction.

"Alright," Harry replied, "I'll take it."

Connor clapped his hands in glee, as he always seemed to do when someone bought something. The two talked prices for a couple of minutes after that and Harry also proceeded to order a couple of ingredients that he knew he was running low on. After handing over some money, Harry pulled out his fake wand and shrunk the cauldron and the rest of his purchases before slipping them into the pocket. Waving goodbye to Connor, he left the shop.

Now Harry had only one purchase left to make before he would return to the Dursleys. As he headed down Knockturn Alley however, a particular store front caught his eye and caused Harry to pause.

'_A wizard optometrist?_' Harry questioned. He made to move on, but something held him in place. Finally, giving in to his curiosity, Harry slipped inside the shop. To Harry's surprise, the inside of the store was impeccably clean and looked exactly like a waiting room of a muggle doctor office.

The dark haired teen paused for a moment, considering leaving, when a wiry middle-aged man stepped into the room through a door to the back.

"Ah," he said upon noticing someone in his store. "Hello, hello. What can I do for you today?"

Harry hesitated once more. He really had no reason to be here, but...

Despite the fact that Harry hadn't said a word, the older man's eyes suddenly brightened up. "Well," he said clapping his hands together. "Regardless you're obviously here because you have poor vision."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Obviously?"

The man smirked. "Yes," he replied. "Because this store is spelled to be visible only to those who have glasses or need them. It's because of this that I have to keep this store in Knockturn Alley rather than Diagon Alley." Then man sighed then shrugged. "But what am I going to do, eh? I get enough business as it is; I'm content." The man grinned and then turned his full attention back to Harry. "So what can I do for you today? Do you need a pair of glasses? Or perhaps a checkup? Or even an eye correction?"

Harry blinked at the last one, his interest sparked. "Eye correction?"

"Yep!" the man said as he continued to grin. "I can correct your eye sight no matter what your subscription is. I can even change your eye color too! It does cost quite a lot, but so long as you're under 18—the age of your magical maturity—it'll be permanent."

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it. He really shouldn't, but...

A half an hour later Harry walked out of the wizard optometrist's shop with a grin on his face. He hadn't trusted the man at first, but the process and spells used had been explained to him and Harry had truly sensed no ill will from the man, so he'd finally agreed to get his eye sight fixed. After all, if he was going to be going to a new school under a new identity, then a new look was in order.

Harry had, actually been working on his appearance a bit over the past few weeks simply by growing his hair out. Harry's hair had always grown like a weed, but he had always carefully controlled it and kept it short. This summer however, Harry had let his hair grow out. Currently, without his glamour, Harry's hair was about shoulder length and was tied back at the nape of his neck. Of course, despite its length his hair was still as unruly as ever.

As Harry began to walk along Knockturn Alley again, he focused back on what he had just had done and still felt that he was in slight awe. He didn't have his glasses on any longer, but he could see perfectly! Perhaps this was why he almost never saw witches and wizards with glasses on, and if he did see them they were always older, like McGonagall or Dumbledore. After a bit of internal conflict, Harry had actually decided to forgo getting his eye color changed. He may want to look unrecognizable at Silvermoor, but he wasn't going to be completely leaving the wizarding world and his eyes were something that he'd always liked since they reminded him of his parents; he had, after all, been told many times that they looked exactly like his mother's.

Harry continued down the alley for another minute or so until he reached his final destination: a small store hidden in the back of the alley. Stepping inside, Harry had to wait a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the gloom of the store. Once he had however, he quickly took stock of his surroundings.

The store Harry was in was basically a pet shop for rare and dangerous animals—magical and mundane alike. It did, however, also sell some other items that were often used in the handling of said dangerous animals. In particular, Harry knew that they sold some very superlative dragon hide gloves that he had been meaning to buy for a while.

As Harry moved further into the small shop—well, at least it seemed small from where he was. Regardless, Harry knew that most of the products were actually kept in the back, behind some strong wards—he looked around at the selection of products offered. Something small however, caught his eye. Moving over to it, Harry saw that it was what appeared to be a small silver-green money bag. Harry reached out and held the moneybag and was shocked to feel it shrink in his hand.

"Interesting, isn't it?" a voice behind Harry said.

Jerking in surprise, Harry quickly let go of the purse and spun around, only to see a small wiry man standing near the door that led to the back of the shop. The man moved silently across the floor towards Harry, his eyes not on the currently brown haired teen, but on the moneybags. Stopping near Harry, he continued.

"These are moke-skin moneybags," he said. "Mokes are amazing little creatures. They're small lizards about ten inches in length that you can find naturally throughout Britain and Ireland that can shrink on will. Because of this, moneybags such as this one can shrink and expand as their owner wills them to, making it _very_ hard for thieves to get their hands on."

Harry's eyebrows rose as he looked approvingly at the moneybag. Something like that could be very useful to have, especially since Harry often found himself carrying around a good amount of money. Granted, Harry could stop anyone whom tried to steal from him anyway, but a little extra protection never hurt.

"And how exactly do they recognize their owner?" Harry asked offhandedly.

The shopkeeper smirked. "By letting a drop of your blood fall into the bag."

Again Harry's eyebrows rose, but he couldn't but smirk as well. "Alright," Harry said after a moment. "I'll take it."

With a grin the older man swept the moneybag up and placed in on the counter in the back of the room, which he then swiftly moved behind. "Good, good. Is there anything else that I can get you?"

"Yes, actually," Harry replied, his face going serious once more. "A pair of Hebridean Black dragon-hide gloves and boots."

The shopkeeper's eyes rose at the costly purchase, but he said nothing and instead moved once more towards the door that led to the back of the shop.

"Follow me then."

Harry did so, though cautiously. As he passed through the doorway to the back of the shop, Harry could feel the wards wash around him. He ignored them, however, in favoring of glancing around the room that he was in.

This room was a fair bit larger than the one up front. It was lined with cages filled with every animal under the sun, from lions and tigers to chimeras and fwoopers. On the back wall was a wide array of shelves on which the shopkeeper kept his supply of dragon hide items. Said items the older man was currently rustling through.

Harry began to move across the room toward the shopkeeper, but half way across his attention was diverted by several voices.

"—if you think that you're so—"

"—I have never seen such atrocious—"

"—maybe if I just went—"

"—well of course you'd think that! I mean you—"

"—and why shouldn't I—"

"—sun is so bright today that I just want to—"

Blinking in surprise Harry came up short. He looked all around him, but he couldn't see anyone else in the room but him, the shopkeeper, and the animals. Hesitantly, Harry took a step forward, but he could still hear the voices loud and clear while the old shopkeeper seemed to be oblivious.

Harry took a good look around once more and, after a moment, his eyes landed on a glass case, which seemed to be the source of the noise. In that case was snake unlike any that he had seen before. It was white with black stripes—quite like a white tiger, now that he though about it—and was about three feet long. What was so shocking about the snake however was that it had three heads, which seemed to be arguing with each other! Or, rather, the first and third heads were arguing vehemently, while the middle one stared dreamily off into space, mumbling to itself.

So engrossed in staring amazedly at the snake Harry was that he very nearly jumped again when the shopkeeper stepped up beside him. "What is that?" Harry asked, his eyes still glued to the hissing snake...Or was it snake_s_?

"An albino runespoor," the older man murmured, looking at the snake as well. "Runespoors are three headed snakes that originate in Burkina Faso, Africa. They are usually bright orange with black stripes instead of white, but as I said this one is an albino. They can reach up to six or seven feet in length. What's really fascinating about them though, is that all three heads operate independently, and have their own jobs. The left head—as seen by us facing the serpent—is the planner; it decides what the snake is going to do next. The middle head is the dreamer, and its fantasies can sometimes cause the runespoor to lie still for several days at a time. And, finally, the right head is the critic. It evaluates the other heads efforts in, apparently, a continued irritably hissing. That head is also very venomous"

Harry blinked surprise and stared down at the runespoor. No wonder the snake was arguing with itself; it was like three snakes in one. How...interesting.

Moving his attention away from the albino runespoor, Harry straightened up and turned to face the shopkeeper. Immediately the older man held out a pair of black dragon-hide gloves in one hand, and a pair of similar boots in the other. Harry took them from the man and looked them over. Feeling the roughness of the scales of the hide Harry nodded; these looked like Hebridean Black hide alright.

"They're spelled to automatically fit your size," the shopkeeper commented, motioning to the gloves and boots. "And they'll change as you do, or to anyone else who uses them."

Harry nodded his thanks and then looked over to the glass case, in which the runespoor was still arguing. He stared at it for a moment before making a split second decision and turning his attention back to the shopkeeper; he did need a new familiar after all.

"I'll take it," he said. "I'll take the runespoor."

The shopkeeper stared at Harry in surprise for a moment before breaking out into grin. "Really? That's great! Honestly, I never thought that anyone would buy it; people tend to buy runespoors because of their intimidating appearance, but since this one's an albino, well..."

The shopkeeper cut himself off, still grinning. "Wait here please," he continued. "I'm going to ring everything up; I'll be right back." He then hurried back to the front of the store, leaving Harry alone with the animals.

Harry waited until his was sure that the shopkeeper was gone, and then he crouched down in front of the glass case so that he was eye level with the runespoor.

"_**Hello,**_" he hissed out in parsletongue. Immediately, all three heads went silent and jerked around to stare straight at him. Honestly, Harry felt that it was fairly unnerving to have all three heads of a three headed snake staring unblinking at you. And the fact that they had blood red eyes because it was albino didn't help at all.

Finally, after a moment, the left head—the planner if the shopkeeper was to be believed—spoke. "_**You Speak,**_" it hissed quietly in a distinctly female voice.

"_**Yes,**_" Harry replied.

"_**Mmm**_," the middle head said in a dreamy voice—that, again, was female. "_**I've always wanted to meet a Speaker. I always thought that if we met one—**_"

"_**Oh please,**_" the right head scoffed in a voice just a female as the others. "_**It's a Speaker, not a god! You two idiots act as though it's some sort of bloody miracle. Speakers are rare, but they're not **__**that**__** special.**_"

The left head turned to glare at the right. "_**Oh and have you ever met a Speaker? No, you haven't! Because you're a part of us! I swear, if you would just think before you speak—**_"

"_**Oh, think like **__**you**__** do, Ms. We-Have-to-Think-Everything-Out?! And even that you do such a horrible job at!**_"

Harry stared blankly at the runespoor as the left and right heads continued to argue with each other. The middle head, however seemed to not be hearing the other heads at all. It just kind of hung there lazily, watching Harry.

"_**So,**_" the middle head suddenly began, "_**Will you be taking us with you then?**_" Immediately the other two heads cut themselves off and swiveled around to stare at Harry.

"_**Erm,**_" Harry hesitated. "_**If you don't mind...**_"

The middle head smiled dreamily but said nothing in reply. The left head however cocked her head and began studying Harry intensely.

"_**Yes,**_" she said. "_**Yes, that would work. We need to get out of here anyway, and having a Speaker as an owner is far better than any lowlife dark wizard wannabe.**_" Harry paused in his thoughts for a moment and stared at her. For a moment he could swear that it was Hermione talking to him instead of a snake. And come to mention it, the middle head sounded an awful lot like Luna too.

The right head rolled her eyes. "_**Well, this just may be the best idea you two dolts have ever come up with,**_" she said grudgingly.

Harry's eyebrows rose. Well, if he was going to get a pet, an intelligent serpent that he could talk to was definitely his best bet.

"_**I'm Harry Potter,**_" he said by way of introducing himself. He figured that he'd be best to give out his real name; and besides, who was the snake going to tell?

The left head smirked. "_**I'm Layla. Next to me is Kiya, and last is—**_"

"_**I can introduce myself, thanks,**_" the right head snapped. She then turned to look at Harry, holding her head high. "_**I am Isis.**_"

Layla, the left head, rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath. Kiya, on the other hand, seemed to be completely unaware of what was going on around her as she proceeded to stare off into space.

At that moment, the shopkeeper returned. Harry straightened and faced the man, watching out of the corner of his eyes as the albino runespoor's heads lifted up to stare at the shopkeeper. The two of them then proceeded to talk about prices for a minute or two before Harry finally agreed and handed over some gold.

"Would you like to keep the runespoor in the glass case, or...?"

Harry shook his head. "No thanks; I'll just take her with me." That said, Harry reached over, pulled the top off the container, and reached his hand in.

The shopkeeper's eyes immediately went wide. "No! Don't!" he yelled. Harry presumed that it was because the serpent _was_ venomous. However, the older man's cries were cut off as the albino runespoor immediately began to curl her way around Harry's arm. Once she was completely wrapped around his forearm, Harry pulled his arm out of the case and smirked at the flabbergasted shopkeeper.

"Thanks, but I'm good."

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The next morning Harry sat on his bed with his new familiar wrapped around his arm. Or was it familiar_s_...? Harry wasn't quite sure whether he should refer to her...them...a single snake, or three. After all, they did have three different heads, and, in a way, were like three separate beings combined.

"_**We're going to be leaving today,**_" he hissed at them. "_**I'm going to be attending Silvermoor Academy of Magic.**_"

"_**Ah, so you're a magical being then,**_" Layla stated. Harry blinked in surprise at her assessment; this runespoor seemed to be more knowledgeable than he'd expected. Still, in the end that was a good thing.

"_**I don't think that there's ever been a speaker who was also a magical being,**_" Kiya murmured. "_**They've always been wizards before.**_"

Using the hand that the serpent wasn't wrapped around, Harry scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "_**Well, umm...**_" Isis on the other hand just rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath. Sighing—though slightly amused at the three—he continued, "_**We'll be going on a plane today to get to Greenland; well, technically two flights. Anyway, because of this you're going to have to stay in my trunk for most of today. Fortunately however, my trunk as a large room-like compartment in it.**_"

"_**Well, we don't exactly have much of a choice if we want to get there, do we?**_" Isis grumbled.

Kiya fortunately had a much...brighter...outlook on the situation. "_**I've been wanting to have a nice long dream for a while now,**_" she said wistfully with a sigh.

Harry chuckled. "_**Good then,**_" he replied. "_**It's a mini library, so I guess you'll be able explore a bit.**_"

A couple of minutes later, Layla, Kiya, and Isis were down in the library, slithering around and Harry was taking a deep breath as he stood near his bedroom door. Glancing down at a few papers that were held tightly in his hand, Harry groaned slightly. He really didn't want to have to deal with the Dursleys right now, but he was going to have to in order to leave without leaving any chains holding him back.

And so, with a sigh, Harry opened his bedroom door and headed downstairs. Once in the living room, Harry saw that, to his luck, all three of his relatives were still at home. His uncle was finishing up packing his briefcase, Dudley was glued to the television, and his aunt was cleaning up dishes in the kitchen.

As she passed by the doorway that connected the living room and the kitchen, Petunia paused, seeing Harry standing at the bottom of the stairs. She looked surprised, as she well should since Harry hadn't been downstairs since returning from Hogwarts. Her mouth opened and closed for a moment as she searched for something to say. To Harry it was amusing, but he quickly sobered as he remember what his task was going to be.

Clearing his throat loudly, Harry got the attention of his uncle as well. Dudley was still watching the TV, completely oblivious to those around him, but Harry didn't particularly care. As soon as he saw that it was Harry who had gotten his attention, Vernon's gaze turned into a glare before he leveled out his expression.

Harry took a step forward so that he was closer to his aunt and uncle. "I need to speak to you," he murmured. "In private."

Vernon and Petunia shared a nervous glance before Vernon nodded firmly. "Alright," he said, "But no funny business."

Harry nodded in reply and led his aunt and uncle into the kitchen. Once they were all sitting down at the dining table, he spoke up once more.

"As you know," he started, "I turned sixteen two weeks ago. And, at the age of sixteen, teens are allowed to get a job, rent a house, etc without consent."

Vernon stared hard at Harry. "Yeah," he said gruffly, "What about it?"

Harry took another deep breath. "Well, as I'm sure that you also know, 16-year-olds cannot leave school without permission." At this point, Harry placed the papers that he'd brought down on the table before him and pushed them towards his aunt and uncle. "These are papers for my emancipation. If you sign them, I will leave this home. Permanently. You'll never have to see me again. You can just tell the neighbors that I was sent off somewhere else or something."

Vernon and Petunia exchanged another glance; this time a hopeful one. Despite this, however, Petunia spoke up. "But I thought that that Dumbledouse fellow said that you had to stay here...?"

Harry snorted. "I apologize; I hadn't realized that you two took orders from him, a _wizard_."

Harry's uncle's face immediately started to turn purple. "Certainly not!" he spluttered. "We are regular, normal folk and we rule ourselves!" He then pulled the papers closer to him and began to look them over. "You say you'll never come back, boy?" he asked, glancing up.

Harry nodded, carefully hiding his smirk; it was so easy to manipulate his relatives so long as you knew how to push their buttons. "Yes. I'll never shadow your doorstep again."

"Well..." Vernon hesitated. He looked as though he desperately wanted to sign, but was wary about any tricks.

"Vernon!" Petunia whispered harshly. "But what about what _they_ will say?!"

Harry forcefully stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "_They_ will leave you alone," he interrupted. "You had nothing to do with my choice in leaving, and you can tell them that. Besides, there's nothing that they can do; since I'm sixteen I can legally leave; I just need your permission to leave school, and this is the best way to do that and get me out of your hair at the same time.

Vernon and Petunia continued to stare suspiciously at Harry for a moment longer before Vernon finally hesitantly pulled out a pen. He read the papers through once more—constantly glancing up at Harry as he did so—before he paused at the end and then signed at the bottom. Harry stopped himself from releasing as sigh as he took the papers back from Vernon with a nod. Thank _Merlin_.

"Good day, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon," Harry said politely as he stood up from the table. "I will be leaving right away."

Without another word, Harry turned on his heel and headed upstairs. Once he had closed his bedroom door behind him, Harry let out the smirk that had been threatening to consume his face. Finally. Finally he was free!

Harry glanced down at the papers in his hand; now all he had to do was send them back to Grimsheild, whom he had gotten them from. He would take care of the rest. And so, after a moment's worth of concentration on his part, the papers disappeared from his hands. Harry knew that they were now safe in Grimsheild's office.

Before speaking to the Dursley's Harry had packed up all of his things in his trunk—his runespoor had been the last. Despite this though, he took one last look around to room to make sure that he hadn't left anything. When he was absolutely positive that he hadn't left anything behind, Harry turned back to face his trunk and took a deep breath. Well, this was it; he was really leaving. He was really heading on his way toward Greenland.

Harry sighed and glanced out of his window and into the morning. Seeing his reflection in the glass however, reminded Harry that he had glamour on to make himself look exactly as he had at the beginning of the summer. He quickly removed it, and the young man staring back at him completely changed: He now had longer hair which was tied back at the nape of his neck, no glasses and a much more filled out face. He was also a few inches taller; he had shot up a bit over the past few weeks, having finally had a growth spurt.

Harry's clothes had also changed from Dudley's hand-me-downs to what he was actually wearing: a pair of nice blue jeans and a black dress shirt. Oh, and of course his pair of Hebridean Black-hide boots.

Suddenly though, Harry noticed his scar peeking out from behind his bangs. Now that wouldn't do at all. And so, just a second later, Harry had a strong but unnoticeable glamour covering the lightning bolt scar.

Turning away from his reflection, Harry approached his trunk and, laying a hand on it, used his magic to shrink it. He then tucked it into his pocket and, at the same time, checked to make sure that the airplane tickets and his new mokeskin moneybag was safely in his pocket too. With one last look around his bedroom, Harry Potter silently Disapparated out—

—And Blake Gray Apparated into Heathrow Airport.

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A/N: Eh, I was pretty hesitant about giving Harry a snake as a pet since they're used so much, but in the end it was the only kind of pet that I could actually see Harry having. I made it a runespoor because from the way they're described in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ they're probably the most intelligent of snakes. That and they're damn interesting.

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	6. Chapter 6: The Trip

Title: Shades of Gray: The Trip  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 3,939  
Story WC: 29,249  
Last Edited: November 14, 2008  
Posted: September 20, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 6  
_The Trip_

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Harry stared blankly out the plane window and into the clouds. He had been on this airplane for over six hours. And, as it turned out, flying in a plane was nothing like flying on a broom. It was actually quite boring, especially with the large woman sitting next to him snoring loudly in his ear.

So, to occupy himself during the long flight, Harry was staring out at the clouds as they flew through them. That, at least, reminded Harry of flying on a broom, though he was sure that he'd never flown as high on a broom as they were now. Fortunately, Harry knew that they would be landing soon; the flight was supposed to be seven hours long and that time had nearly passed.

At that exact moment the plane broke through the clouds and Harry saw that they were just beginning to fly over land. Harry leaned over slightly in his seat to get a better look. So this was America, the "land of the free". It was funny to think that this would be the first country other than England that he had ever been in, and it was all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. He wasn't sure why, but Harry had always expected that if he went to another country it would be somewhere in Europe.

It only took about fifteen more minutes until the plane landed in Baltimore-Washington International Airport. Harry felt himself sighing slightly as he stood up with everyone else on the plane. He had to get up now and change to another flight—Greenland Air, he believed. At least, he thought as he shuffled off the plane, he didn't have any luggage to carry with him since everything was in his shrunken trunk.

Once he was in the terminal, Harry had to stop for a moment. He was in America. He was actually standing on an entire other continent from where he'd lived his entire life. Harry took a deep breath and then pushed his thoughts out of his mind. He was here to do something, even if it was just getting onto another flight. Still, he thought as a grin came unbidden onto his face, this was _awesome_. Who knew that widening your horizons could be so much fun.

It took Harry another half an hour to get through the crowded terminals—during which time Harry realized that Americans had really strange accents—and onto his next airplane. It was unfortunate that he could just wander around the airport for a bit and get used to the feel of America. After all, who knew when he'd be back here next? However, the flight to Greenland would be leaving within the next ten minutes so he couldn't. It was times like these that Harry thought it was a real pity that people couldn't Apparate across large distances and continents.

Walking onto the Greenland Air plane, Harry made his way down the isle of the smaller plane toward where his seat was in the economy section. It was too bad that he didn't have a better seat, but this was his first time flying and he hadn't paid for the tickets so Harry didn't particularly mind. Well, technically he had paid for them since he had had to pay tuition for his schooling, but that was beside the point.

Checking his ticket one more time, Harry found the seat that he was supposed to sit in. It was a window seat again, which Harry was fortunate for. He thought that'd probably go crazy if he had to be cooped up the plane with out the ability to look outside.

Harry dropped down into his seat and let out sigh. He had another few hours of flight to look forward to, and it was already three in the afternoon, local time. Harry closed his eyes and simply sat, waiting for the next five minutes until another passenger stopped beside his row. Harry held back a sigh; this plane only had two seats to a row, so whoever this person was would be the person that he'd have to spend the rest of the flight with. Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and looked at the person standing in the isle.

And promptly blinked.

Whoever he'd be expecting, it wasn't this person. It was a guy whom appeared to be about Harry's age. He was tall—around 6'1"—with a slender build, broad shoulders, and tan skin. From what Harry could see he also had wiry muscles; a hidden strength. The teen had shaggy sandy brown hair that fell into his eyes slightly. He was wearing a pair of loose blue jeans, a tight black t-shirt, a pair of black tennis shoes with their laces undone, and there was a pair of black arms bands on his wrists.

"Hey dude," the brown haired guy greeted cheerfully with an American accent. Without an ounce of grace he slumped into his seat. Resting his arms on the arms rests and easily looking as comfortable as he could be, the teen then turned toward Harry again, showing—to Harry's shock—as pair of bright golden eyes.

Harry had to forcefully stop his eyebrows from rising. A werewolf? Well, unless he was wearing contacts; that was the only thing that he could be; all werewolves had golden eyes, even Remus Lupin.

"I'm Ryan Henderson," he said with a grin, holding his hand out.

Harry shook Ryan's hand and found himself grinning as well. "Blake Gray."

Hearing Harry speak, Ryan's eyebrows rose. "A Brit, eh? Now that's interesting."

Harry simply smirked. "Yeah, well, where are you from?"

"The good ol' US of A, of course," he chuckled, "But, more specifically, from a small town in the Sierra Nevada Mountains in California." Ryan paused and looked Harry over. "So, you're heading to Silvermoor, I'm guessin'?"

This time it was Harry's eyebrows that rose. "Yeah, I am. How'd you guess?" he asked curiously.

Ryan grinned. "Not many teens fly alone to Greenland of all places, unless they're originally from Greenland or somethin'. And I don't even have to ask to know that you already know that I'm a werewolf." He sighed. "The eyes always give it away. But then, it's fairly obvious for other races too. You, for example, are obviously a mage. You have none of the defining traits that us other races do...Unless you're an elf who has managed to hide his ears that is." Ryan paused and looked hard at Harry. "...Are you?"

Harry quirked a grin. "No," he said. "I'm a mage, last time I checked."

Ryan let out a bark of a laugh and placed his hands behind his head. "Well, Blake," he began. "You're a first year, right? You look to be about my age."

"Yeah, I am. Are you a first year as well then?"

Ryan nodded and hummed under his breath. "Yep, I'm a sweet sixteen like most other first years."

Ryan and Harry proceeded to chat for the next hour or so. They flitted from subject to subject, though most of it was centered around Silvermoor. Finally however, they managed to land on the topic of their backgrounds.

Ryan, as Harry found out, had lived in the Sierra Nevada Mountains with a fairly large pack all his life. His parents were a part of said pack as well, but he had no other relatives.

"—But," Ryan said with a grin, something Harry had found that he did quite often, "Of course I'll probably join or form my own pack while at Silvermoor." He paused and then looked to Harry. "So, how about you? What's your story?"

"Well," Harry began, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. He was quite glad that he'd planned out a thorough background for himself earlier. "It's actually kind of complicated...You see, up until just a few months ago I had thought that I was a wizard." And, of course, a lie that was closest to the truth was always the easiest to keep.

Ryan's eyebrow climbed into his hairline. "Really? I don't think that that's ever happened before; mages and wizards are too different."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "But part of the reason for it is that my parents died when I was just a baby and I grew up in a muggle orphanage." That was true enough—the Dursley's _had_ been like an orphanage. "When I was eleven the wizarding community apparently found me and thought that I was a wizard. They sent me off to one of those smaller wizarding schools in the southern area of Great Britain, where I proceeded to pretend to be a wizard; I'd known I was different from them." Well, that was a bit more off, but he _had_ been sent to a school.

"Huh," Ryan commented. But then, a look of confusion came onto his face. "But isn't it supposed to be impossible for mages to use wands?"

"Oh, it is," Harry assured him. "Like I said, I'd known I was different; since I was young I've been able to use magic, which already was quite different from what wizards were like. On top of that, when I was taken to get my wand, none of the wands reacted to me. Eventually, I just got so fed up and bored that I used my own magic to get make it appear that one of the wands had reacted." Harry shrugged. "I've spent that last five years doing similar in order to make myself appear 'normal'."

Ryan nodded in understand and Harry stopped himself from letting out a sigh; though his excuse was quite close to the truth, he'd been afraid that people would see through it.

"Well then" Ryan said, looking at Harry with a look of slight surprise. "You must have pretty good of control over your magic then; having gone to another magic school and all. Plus, if you were able to achieve good magic results at the age of _eleven_."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, Headmistress Mikhailova was surprised as well when I spoke with her about it." At Ryan's questioning look, he elaborated a bit. "I had gone to speak with her when I figured out that I might be a mage and that if I was I would want to attend Silvermoor Academy. Anyway, she said that it was unusual for magical beings to have almost complete control over their magic at the age of four or so."

Ryan's eyes widened. "Unusual?!" he gasped. "Blake, that should be impossible!"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, it's partially how I survived in the orphanage; I had to conjure food and stuff..."

Ryan's eyes went even wider. "Conjure?! You're messing with me, right? No child should be able to transfigure air to food at such an age. Hell, even I couldn't do it until fairly recently and transfiguration is one of my best subjects!" He paused, seeing Harry's sheepish look, and then suddenly chuckled. "You're not kidding, are you?" he asked as he slumped back into his seat.

"Nope, sorry."

"Sorry..." Ryan shook his head in bewilderment. "In order for you to be able to use such magic as such a young age, you must be damn powerful. It's too bad that you don't know who your parents are." He paused. "...Do you?"

Harry smiled sadly. "No, I don't."

"Ah..." Ryan paused awkwardly, before suddenly grinning. "Sweet," he practically howled. "This year's going to be _interesting_!"

Harry blinked and then shook his head while chucking. Interesting didn't even begin to cover it. At least he'd already made a friend of a magical being, and he hadn't even landed in Greenland yet.

"Well," Ryan suddenly spoke up after a moment's pause. "Since you grew up in the muggle world and had schooling in the wizarding world, I'm guessing that you don't know too much about us magical beings?"

Harry chuckled. "No," he replied, "I don't. Though I _have_ read a book by the name of _Branches of Magic_."

Ryan let out a feral grin. "Well then," he said. "I suppose I'm just going to have to teach you the basics."

"That'd be great," Harry said with a laugh and the two shook hands as if completing some deal.

"Well," Ryan began, "I suppose that I should start with us werewolves." He flashed a grin and then sunk into contemplation. "Hmm...How much do you know about werewolves?"

"Umm...Well, a little bit, because a friend of mine in the wizarding world was a bitten werewolf."

"So then you _do_ know the difference between bitten werewolves and true werewolves?" Ryan asked. Harry nodded his reply. "Do you know about alpha werewolves?"

That made Harry pause. "Um...no..."

Ryan grinned again. "Well, you see, there are two different types of true werewolves: alpha or submissive. Whether a werewolf is alpha or submissive determines what their place in society will be. Submissive werewolves join packs; either the one they were born into or another at school. Alpha werewolves, meanwhile, almost always create their own packs at school, because they are pack leaders. There are a few alpha werewolves who take over old packs, but they are quite rare and usually only the brightest and most powerful of their age."

Harry blinked. "Hmm, interesting...It does make sense though; I'd been wondering how werewolf packs were structured. But it doesn't quite make sense; considering the size of most packs, won't there be a bunch of alphas whom are either in a pack under another alpha or just on their own?"

"No, actually. You see, most werewolves are submissives. Less than like 7 percent or something of all werewolves are alphas. And you were correct in your assumption on the size of packs; packs are always made up of one alpha leading a bunch of submissives. Granted, there are always some alphas who don't have a pack, be it because they don't want one, because they're too weak, or because they're simply not fit to lead. Submissives always join a pack though; it goes against their nature not to."

"And how about you?" Harry asked. "Are you an alpha or submissive?"

Ryan sent Harry another grin, flashing his teeth. "Why, alpha of course."

Harry shook his head slightly. "Eh, I should have guessed. You certainly don't seem like the 'submissive' type."

Ryan howled with laughter. "Of course! I am the great Ryan Henderson after all!"

"Really? Then how come I'd never head of you before today?"

"Because you've been stuck it the wizarding world with all those bigoted idiots. You haven't had the joy of hearing my name spoken before today."

Harry sniggered. "Yeah, that's definitely the truth. Well then, it is an honor to finally meet you, great Ryan of California."

Ryan threw his arms up into the air. "Of course! It is such a joy to allow all you little people to rest your eyes on me."

Before they could continue their banter, to two glanced at each other and then suddenly broke down into laughter. Harry, as he wiped his tears away—he was laughing just that hard—felt a smile come to his face. His friends at Hogwarts had been good friends, but he had never been able to laugh with them like he was laughing with Ryan now. In fact, most of them would be indignant about their banter, not understanding the teasing.

It was only another hour before the pilot announced that they were flying over Greenland. Surprised, Harry looked out the window—with Ryan leaning over his shoulder to get a look too—and saw that they had indeed just approached the cold and rocky land. Leaning back in his seat, Harry realized that he hadn't even looked out the window the entire time that they'd been in the air; he'd been conversing with Ryan the entire time.

It only took a few minutes after that to reach Nuuk, the capital of Greenland; the city was on the edge of a bay after all. And so, ten minutes after that Harry and Ryan found themselves standing up to get off the plane. Harry didn't have any carry-on bags—at least not officially—but Ryan had a backpack which he said everything he needed was in. The two quickly excited once they had their things, still chatting while they did. Harry noticed as the moved out into the terminal that many of the people who had been on the plane were teenagers like him and Ryan. Were they students too?

"So," Harry began as he and Ryan walked through the airport. "Do you know where we're supposed to go next?"

Ryan glanced around. "There's supposed to be someone obviously magical who comes to pick everyone up..." Suddenly he caught sight of someone and pointed them out to Harry. "Ah, there we go; a fayerie."

And indeed it was, Harry saw when he looked over to a woman standing in a shadowed corner. She had all the distinguishing features of a fayerie; namely bluish green skin and very pale hair. In particular, her hair was long, wavy, and even paler than usual—nearly white. She looked to be about 30, which probably meant that she was around 400 or so years old, considering that fayeries lived to be somewhere between 500 to 800 years old.

She didn't actually have wings of course; that was just a myth humans have come up with because fayeries' magical aura did take the shape of a pair of glowing wings on their back. The fact that fairies did actually exist and looked just like the myths didn't exactly help either. Fayeries were the superior relatives of fairies, doxies, pixies, erklings, leprechauns, etc. It was sort of like how human were the superior relatives of primates.

The fayerie was wearing a simple pair of white pants and purple top whose sleeves were embroidered with elegant designs in gold. For a moment Harry glanced around, wondering if people would get curious about seeing a person with strange skin like her. It quickly dawned on him, however, that she was using magic to hide herself and Harry immediately felt like hitting himself over the head; how could have not realized that in the first place?!

Without wasting any more time, Harry and Ryan headed over to the fayerie. Several other students were already standing around her, waiting. They all appeared to be around sixteen so Harry guessed that they were first years too. He couldn't help but glance around at them as he and Ryan stopped to lean against a wall where the group was; these were some of the students that he would be attending school with for the next four years.

Harry and Ryan spent the next five minutes in silence, waiting for everyone to arrive. To Harry's great amusement, he found that Ryan began fidgeting after only a minute; it seemed that he really couldn't keep still.

Finally, once the fayerie was sure that everyone had gathered, she turned to address the group. "I am Professor Gemma Cyan. I teach the Healing class at Silvermoor Academy of Magic. Today, however, I will be your guide of the magical section of Nuuk. I know that many of you have questions—and they will be answered—but they will have to wait until we get to the Elysia Hotel, where you all will be spending the night, along with all the students."

Everyone kept respectfully quiet, and Professor Cyan let out a grin, showing off that all of her teeth were sharp and pointed. Harry made a point not wince; after all, he already knew that fayeries most distinguishing feature—besides their skin—was their pointed teeth.

Without another word, Professor Cyan turned and began walking off. Harry and Ryan shared a glance before quickly hurrying off with everyone else after her.

To Harry's surprise, Professor Cyan didn't go to customs—and for that, Harry was glad; he wasn't quite sure how he'd explain that he had no luggage—but rather she headed straight toward a door that was off to the side, but still in the terminal. No one else seemed to be noticing it, so Harry guessed that it was spelled only for magical beings to see, kind of like how the Leaky Cauldron was spelled only for wizards to see.

When Harry passed through the door right after Ryan, he had to hold back a gasp. He knew that the area behind the door had definitely _not_ connected to the outside, but outside was definitely where he was now. Glancing around, Harry saw that they were apparently in an alley. The airport was no where in sight.

Completely ignoring the questioning looks of the teens, Professor Cyan strode down the alley to where a large black metal gate was. As Harry and the rest of the new students followed after her, Harry noticed that he could feel pure power coming off the metal. It made him hesitate for a moment and, after a glance around him, he noticed that no one else seemed to be noticing the power.

Leaning over toward Ryan, he caught the werewolf's attention. "Can you feel that?" he whispered.

Ryan furrowed his brow. "Feel what?"

Harry's mouth tightened. How come he was the only one...? At Ryan's questioning look, he shook his head, dismissing the feeling for the time being.

Professor Cyan stopped just before the gate and turned to face the group of students whom had followed her. "This is one of the gates to the magical section of Nuuk, better known as Myrddin's Circle, or just Myrddin. If you're really interested in the story behind the name, then ask someone else—I'm not here to give you history lessons."

Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. He could already see how different the teachers of Silvermoor were going to be from those of Hogwarts; this one, at least, was much harsher. And she was supposed to be the teacher of the _Healing_ class. For a moment, Harry was glad that he hadn't decided to take that class this year, though he hoped to in a year or so; he wanted to take at least a crash course since he seemed to get injured so often.

"The tall black fence that you see behind me surrounds all of Myrddin," Professor Cyan continued. "It has been enchanted by some of the best and most powerful magical beings over the centuries to keep muggles and wizards out and ignorant of our existence. There are a total of four gates, including this one, around the area allowing access.

"Myrddin itself is a vaguely circular area with a diameter of about two miles. Within its perimeter you will find many shops that will provide just about anything you need or want. This includes a branch of Gringotts that is available solely to magical beings.

"During the school year all students are allowed to visit Myrddin—and anywhere else in the world, generally—so long as it does not interfere with your studies. The transport between Silvermoor Academy and Myrddin will be explained tomorrow."

Hearing this, Harry had to grin; being able to leave whenever he needed would make some things a whole lot easer for him. Glancing at Ryan—and some of the other students—out of the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed that they all looked a bit pleased about this as well.

Finished with that part of her explanation, Professor Cyan turned around once more so that she was facing the gate. She then placed her hand on the large silver handle, turned, and then pushed the gate open.

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A/N: I want to thank Draeconin for pointing out some British cultural mistakes that I've made. If anyone notices any other culture, canon, grammar, or spelling errors, please don't hesitate to mention them.

Oh, and Myrddin is another name for Merlin, by the way. And ironically enough, I hadn't known that when I first decided to call the magical sector of Nuuk "Myrddin's Circle".

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	7. Chapter 7: The Hotel

Title: Shades of Gray: The Hotel  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 4,727  
Story WC: 33,976  
Last Edited: November 16, 2008  
Posted: September 20, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 7  
_The Hotel_

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_Finished with that part of her explanation, Professor Cyan turned around once more so that she was facing the gate. She then placed her hand on the large silver handle, turned, and then pushed the gate open._

As soon as Professor Cyan had placed a hand on the handle, Harry had felt a shiver go down his spine; in that instant, the power that he had been feeling rolling of the gate in waves had suddenly spiked, before turning into a more welcoming sensation. And, once again, it didn't appear that anyone, not even the professor, had felt it.

Holding the gate wide open, Professor Cyan motioned for the group to enter. As Harry himself passed through the gateway he felt his eyes widen. Stretching out before them were many different shops. Some of them were surprisingly similar to those that he would see in Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley, but an equal amount of them were very similar to shops that he would see in the muggle world; it appeared that magical beings definitely didn't hold the same aversion of muggle technology that almost all wizards did.

The apparent layout of Myrddin was also pretty interesting. From what Harry could tell, there was a wide stone road that ran all the way along the perimeter of Myrddin as well as two main roads that cut the area into four equal sections. Within each of those sections were many other smaller streets that crisscrossed each other depending on where the many stores were set up. Harry guessed that at the end of each of the main straight roads were the four gates.

Professor Cyan led the group down the main road that was laid out before them toward the center of Myrddin. As they walked, Harry took the time to glance around at some of the shops that they passed to get a feel for what they sold.

Harry also noticed that some people whom were most likely older students walking around. That was good; it meant that the following year they could arrive on their own. There were also a few people who looked to be about their age. Harry guessed that they were first years who had siblings or parents that went to the school and as such already knew their way around. That made perfect sense to Harry; he knew that some of the first years would be arriving by different travel methods. The fact that there were no fayeries besides Professor Cyan amongst their group was proof enough of that.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of walking, they reached the center of Myrddin, or the Square as Professor Cyan informed them that it was ironically called. The Square was fairly wide and was filled with many different people milling around as they went about their business. The entire area was filled with a hum of voices.

Professor Cyan ignored the people around her and headed straight for a large building that faced out onto the Square. Standing at about seven stories tall, the building quite easily dwarfed all the other buildings around it. It also strongly resembled a muggle hotel.

When Professor led the group through the gilded doors of the building and into a large lobby, Harry suspicion was only increased. Looking around, he saw that there was a counter across from them on the far wall, just as there would be in a muggle hotel, and to their left there were three elevators.

"This," Professor Cyan told them, as they stood in the lobby, "Is the Caelestis Hotel. It is where you will be staying tonight and where you will also stay before school in following years. Due to the amount of students staying here you will have to share a room with one other person. And, due to problems that have up come before, you have all already been assigned to a room.

"On the wall to your right," Professor Cyan paused to gesture to said wall, "There are lists of the assigned rooms posted. They are by year, and then by surname. Once you have found your room, go to the front desk to get your key.

"You have tonight and most of tomorrow to settle in. However, all first years are to be down here in the lobby tomorrow at three in the afternoon; first years always leave for the school first, followed by the second years, and so on.

"As a final warning, starting _any_ fights before school begins will be punished harshly. You'll have more than enough time to do so during the school year, so just hold off one day. You are dismissed." And with that, Professor Cyan strode out of the lobby, leaving the group up to their own devices.

Everyone immediately rushed over to where the lists were as she as she was gone and began clamoring around to find their names. Ryan and Harry shared a look and hung back, waiting for everyone else to finish.

"Well," Harry murmured. "This has certainly been...interesting...so far."

Ryan let out a bark of a laugh. "Heh, true enough," he replied with a grin. "I've never been to Myrddin before; my parents didn't get into Silvermoor you see. Damn proud when I got accepted, they were."

Glancing over at the wall, Harry noticed that most of the people were gone now. He motioned Ryan to follow him while the young werewolf continued to talk.

"Well," Ryan said as he began to look over the lists. "It's doubtful that we'll manage to be roommates, since they're picked at random...I'll meet you down here tomorrow then? To take a look around Myrddin?"

Harry nodded as he too scanned the lists. "Sure; sounds good. We might at least have rooms near each other anyway."

Harry suddenly paused as he caught his name. "Here we go," he murmured. _Gray, Blake,_ it read, _Room 214._ It didn't say who his roommate was, but Harry figured that he would find out who it was when he got to his room.

"You found it?" Ryan asked, coming up beside Harry.

"Yep; room 214. How about you?"

"247," Ryan sighed. "Well, at least we're on the same floor—the second one—even if far apart."

Harry hummed his agreement. "Let's go get our keys then, shall we?"

Ryan nodded his agreement and the two quickly headed for the desk. It took only a minute to confirm their names and receive their keys and then the two headed up the stairs to the second floor. They decided to forgo the elevators because so many people were using them and it _was_ only the second floor that their rooms were on.

Once on the second floor, they were confronted with a long hallway which countless doors faced out onto. They walked only a little bit farther before reaching the room labeled 214.

"Well," Ryan said. "See you tomorrow morning then?"

"Yeah. Does about nine sound good?"

Ryan grinned again. "Sure! That way we can get breakfast and then go out and explore." The brown haired werewolf then set off further down the hall. "See you Blake!" he called back.

Grinning, Harry waved to his new friend, before turning back to the dark wooden door before him. He took a deep breath before inserting his room key into the lock and turning the handle.

The room on the other side of the door looked fairly similar to what a muggle hotel room would be like, though quite a bit fancier. There were two beds in the room, up against the wall, and, across from them, were two wardrobes. The wall across from the door held a sliding glass door that led out to a balcony overlooking Myrddin.

Harry stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Was his roommate not here yet...? Just then, however, Harry noticed a black trunk that was resting at base of the bed closest to the far wall. At the same time, the glass door to the balcony slid open.

Jerking his head up, Harry blinked in surprise at the person who would apparently be his roommate for the night as they stepped into the room.

It was a vampire—_that_ Harry recognized immediately from the pure white skin—and a guy around his age. He had high, aristocratic cheekbones and dark brown eyes. His hair was as deep a black as Harry's own, but was much longer and was held back in a braid that hung to the middle of his back. He also had a long pair of bangs which framed his face.

The vampire was dressed in very traditional, formal clothes. He had on a pair of black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a pair of black boots. Harry noticed that there was a black cloak hanging on a chair against the wall.

Overall, he was kind of like the cliché, dark vampire. He was pale and slender but moved with an inhuman grace. Despite all this, there was something distinctly...young...about him. Harry was suddenly reminded that the vampire before him was the same age as him; much more deadly, but just as young nonetheless.

Harry and the vampire stood awkwardly in front of each other for a moment. Or at least Harry stood awkwardly. The vampire kind of just stared with one raised eyebrow, waiting for Harry to speak.

"Er, hello," Harry finally forced out. Suddenly he realized how hesitant he was and quickly straightened his back and squared his shoulders. Keeping his face serious but polite, Harry stepped closer to the other teen. "I'm Blake Gray," he introduced, inclining his head slightly.

A slight smirk crossed the vampire's face before he returned Harry's nod equally. "I am Damion Noctis, of the Noctis clan. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Harry immediately noticed that he had a thick Italian accent.

So he spoke formally as well as dressed it? And it sounded like his last name was Latin, so...Harry guessed that he was most likely from one of the older clans. He'd have to do a bit of research to find out though.

"Gray..." Damion said contemplatively. "I don't believe that I've ever heard of the Grays..."

Harry felt his eye twitch. He _really_ hoped that this guy wasn't going to suddenly turn into another Malfoy...But then again, most vampires did have a sort of fixation about clans and family names, considering as their entire government was centered around them.

"You wouldn't have," Harry replied stoically. "My parents died when I was young and I have no idea who they are."

Damion's eyes widened in genuine surprise and he seemed to be at a loss for words. "I— I apologize for my ignorant words."

Harry shrugged. "I don't remember them, so it really doesn't matter."

Damion nodded, still leaning against the doorway to the balcony. "That's rare though," he said after a moment, apparently caught in thought. "For a mage to become an orphan with no family, that is."

"Yeah, well," Harry shrugged again as he turned away from the vampire. "Until I figure out what happened I can't explain it either."

Damion grinned, flashing completely normal teeth. Harry was surprised for a moment, before remembering that vampire's teeth only lengthened when they were going to feed or when they were really angry.

Harry chuckled in reply and then pulled his shrunken trunk from his pocket. He rested it on the floor before his bed and then, with a bit of concentration enlarged it back to its original size.

With a satisfied smile, Harry looked up but caught Damion staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw that Damion, who had been entirely composed up until that point, was actually _gaping_ at him.

"Y-you..." Damion stuttered. "You just enlarged that trunk! But magic like that...We don't learn to do until at least second year; the rearranging of each molecule takes too much control!"

Harry blinked in surprise and then found himself rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Ah, well, I've kind of had to use magic to survive for the past sixteen years, so I guess I've just learnt a lot."

Damion's eyes narrowed. "You've been using magic since you were young...?"

"Like I said, I've had to in order to survive," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Still..." Damion hesitated "To be able to use magic at such a level of control..."

Now Harry was _really_ starting to get uncomfortable. So, after a moment of a hesitation, he spoke up again. "Well," he said. "Part of the reason is because for the last five years I've attended a small wizarding school."

Damion's eyebrow rose and some of the tension was released from his body. "Really? Now how in Merlin's name did _that_ happen?"

Harry smirked lightly. "Well, being as I was an orphan, I was believed to be a wizard rather than a magical being—"

"Of course," Damion murmured to himself. Upon seeing Harry's questioning glance, he elaborated. "From birth, mages are protected by their parents from being detected by wizards. However, if you had no one to protect you, and grew up in an orphanage as you said, then you would be mistaken by the wizards as a wizard yourself. A wizard with an abnormally large amount of power, but..."

Harry chuckled. "Yes, that probably _is_ what happened. And after that I spent five years pretending to be a wizard. Quite literally, since I knew I was different, but didn't want anyone to find out. And let me tell you that attempting to copy the results of wizard spells is damn hard."

Damion smirked, though there was a slightly calculating look in his eyes, as if he was reevaluating his original opinion of Harry. "Interesting," he murmured. "Interesting." Raising his voice he looked Harry straight in the eye and continued, "I have a feeling that this is going to be one curious year."

"Honestly, I'd be more surprised if it wasn't," Harry muttered wryly. And if his track record meant anything, then this year would be no different from his last five.

Harry turned his attention back onto his trunk. He crouched down before it and placed his hand on the lock before quietly murmuring out the password for the third compartment so that Damion couldn't hear it. Granted it wouldn't actually matter if the vampire did since the trunk was keyed into his magical signature, but it was the principle of the matter.

Once the lid popped open, Harry reached his hand down as far as he could. Just moments later he felt cool scaled against his skin and his runespoor wound herself...selves...around his arm. Harry then retracted his arm from the trunk compartment and closed the lid.

As Harry stood back up, he became aware that Damion's eyes were on him once more. Gliding across the floor, the vampire stopped next to Harry, staring down at the serpent with curious eyes.

"An albino runespoor?" he questioned. "I don't think that I've ever seen one before; runespoors are rare enough as it is..."

Harry smirked. "This is Layla, Kiya, and Isis," he introduced.

Damion returned the smirk, raising his gaze to meet Harry's. "You just keep get more and more intriguing, especially for a human."

Harry shrugged in reply, though his smirk stayed firmly planted to his face. "So I've been told."

Harry turned back to his trunk as his runespoor began to slither her way up his arm until she was draped around his shoulders. As she clung onto him, Harry was momentarily glad that she was still young; apparently only about a year old. As she grew older she would grow to the length of six to seven feet and then she'd be even more difficult to handle.

"**_He smells funny,_**" Isis complained from her spot near Harry's ear. "**_Like...like..._**"

"**_Like blood,_**" Kiya murmured sleepily.

Layla just sighed, and then turned her calculating gaze to the vampire who had just pulled out a book and was lounging on his bed. "**_He could be a good ally,_**" she hissed. "**_He is from a strong clan, I can smell it._**"

Isis frowned and watched the teen as well. "**_For once, you just might be right._**"

Layla put her head high in the air. "**_Of course. I'm not considered the planning head for nothing, you know._**"

From there Layla and Isis degenerated into their usual squabble. Harry tuned them out at that point, though their earlier comments did interest him and he couldn't help but agree. The blood comment didn't bother him as much as it probably should have; he understood too much about vampires now to do anything other than simply accept it. As for the ally comment...Well, that was very true, especially if he was from a good clan as Layla believed.

Padding silently across the room, Harry pulled open the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony and into the cool night air. Scratch that, it was the freezing _cold_ night air. It was Greenland after all, even if it was the middle of the summer. Letting out a sigh and ignoring the goosebumps that popped up all across his skin, Harry leaned against the balcony. He was finally here. He might not be in the actually school yet, but he was close enough.

And the only thing that he was going to regret was missing the look on Dumbledore's face when he realized that Harry Potter was gone.

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The next morning Harry woke up to harsh sunlight streaming into his face. With a groan the dark haired mage sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He then reached to grab his glasses, only the freeze in mid motion as he realized that he could see perfectly. Oh, right, he'd gotten them fixed. He blinked, thinking about how strange it was to not need his wiry frames.

Once he'd finally completely woken up, Harry glanced up and saw that Damion was already up and dressed. The young vampire was dressed just as formally as he had been the day before, with his hair in the same long braid.

Hearing that Harry was up, Damion turned around to face him. Then, upon seeing the mage's state of disarray, he raised an eyebrow.

"So you're finally awake?"

Harry murmured something unintelligible under his breath. He took a moment to yawn and then finally noticed what Damion was doing: putting on an amulet. Harry stared; just like he could at the gate, he could feel magic coming off the amulet. This magic, however, gave off a feeling of heat and warmth.

"What..." Harry began slowly, his gaze fixed to the gold amulet, "...Is that?"

Damion looked up, surprised and confused. "You don't...?" the vampire trailed off before a look of comprehension dawned on his face. "You don't know much about the society of magical beings, do you?"

Harry shrugged. "I know enough," he replied. "But not the little details."

Damion nodded in understanding. "Well, this is a Heat Amulet. It's an amulet that has been enchanted to keep my body temperature at a warm temperature. All vampires have them."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "But...why? I mean, I understand that it's cold here and all, but...?"

Damion grinned. "Good, you catch on quickly then." He hesitated then, as if he didn't want to continue. After a moment however, he let out a sigh and spoke. "Vampires have one major weakness: we cannot survive in extreme colds. This is the main reason why we mainly live in areas around the equator; it stays warm all year long there. You'll find very few vampires living in Canada , Russia , or even the northern parts of the United States . However, in order to solve this problem, we vampires wear Heat Amulets so that our bodies don't fail." Damion looked Harry straight in the eye then, as if challenging him to say one thing about vampires' apparent major weakness.

Harry, however, just shrugged. "Makes sense to me," he commented. Then, just as he opened his mouth to continue, something dawned on him. "What time is it?"

Damion glanced down at the golden wristwatch adorning his wrist "8:56. Why?" he asked.

Now that really woke Harry up. His eyes wide, Harry shot out of bed and immediately opened up his trunk. He rummaged inside for a moment before pulling out some clothes and quickly trying to put all his clothes on at once. Damion just stared on from the background, highly amused.

Finally, just a minute later, Harry was done and dressed in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a black cloak—one that had a heating charm on it, of course. He hooked his mokeskin moneybag onto his jeans and slipped on his dragon-hide boots. Looking around to make sure that he had everything, Harry was just about to dash for the door when he remembered something else.

"Where's my runespoor?"

Damion grinned from where he was leaning against the wall, watching Harry's panic. "On the chair, I believe."

Harry's gaze swiveled around to the afore mentioned chair and then he immediately let out a breath as he saw his familiar intertwined around the chairs arms, apparently just as amused as Damion was. His mouth tightened in annoyance, Harry strode over to the chair and allowed his chuckling snake to wind herself around his arm, up under his cloak, and around his shoulders so that she was out of sight.

Harry turned his attention back to Damion. "So, I suppose I'll see you around Myrddin then?"

Damion cocked his head, a smirk on his face. "Yes," he murmured. "I believe you will." Harry stared for another moment before inclining his head toward the vampire and slipping out of the room.

Just as Harry closed the room door behind him, he heard a voice from down the hall calling out his name. Looking up, he saw that it was Ryan, who was coming down the hall toward him.

"Hey," the mage greeted as Ryan stopped next to him.

The werewolf replied in a similar fashion, while staring at Harry amusedly. "I, uh...It's interesting to see you with your hair down."

Harry blinked and realized that, in his rush, he had indeed completely forgotten about his hair. Grimacing, the teen pulled a rubber band from off his wrist and tied his hair back. And so, with Ryan snickering—and Harry glaring at him—the two headed back down to the lobby.

Upon stepping off the stairs, Harry was fairly surprised to find that the lobby was filled with different magical beings, all around his age, though many looked to be a couple of years older. Upper years, he realized belatedly. There were many tables and couches set up all around the large room that people were lounging in, chatting with others.

Scanning around the room, Harry quickly identified those who stood with more pride than others—aristocrats, people from more prominent families—-as well as those who stood with confidence—those who had strong abilities, and knew it. These were all people that he needed to keep on good terms with, and possibly even become close to, if he wanted to go far in Silvermoor. Unlike at Hogwarts no one knew who he was, so he would have to make his own way and having connections was a great way to do just that.

As he continued to look around the room, his eyes landed on a confrontation that was happening close to where he and Ryan were standing. From what he could tell, a female mage—at least he thought that she was a mage; he couldn't see her eyes since she was facing away from him so she could have just as easily been a werewolf—was snarling angrily at two sneering male vampires.

Seeing what Harry was staring at, Ryan's eyes immediately narrowed. He quickly sauntered up to the group, his head held high.

"Hello everyone," the werewolf greeted while casually resting his elbow on the girl's shoulder—he was much taller than her. The two vampires stared warily at Ryan for a moment before sneering again and walking off. Ryan grinned and then turned his attention onto the mage, only to see her glaring furiously at him.

Now that she had turned, Harry could see that she was indeed a mage. She stood only about 5'2—not even up to Ryan's shoulders—and was very petite and slender. She had mid-shoulder length curly ebony black hair and a pair of slanted honey brown eyes. Her skin was very tan and from her over all appearance Harry guessed that she was Egyptian, or something of the like. She wore a pair of loose white pants and a low-cut blue blouse with golden edging. She also had a pair of soft-soled sandals on her feet and a pair of black fingerless gloves on her hands.

And, currently, she was glaring at Ryan with even more venom than she'd focused on the two vampires. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she hissed, poking Ryan in the chest. The werewolf just continued to stare wide-eyed at her, completely dumfounded. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much!"

"But...but...But I..."

The Egyptian mage glared at him one last time before turning around so that she was facing away from him. Harry just chuckled.

"Sorry about him," Harry said to her. Her glare softened a little then and she looked him up and down before finally sticking her hand out, a small smile on her face.

"I'm Zahra. Zahra Sadiki."

"Blake Gray," he returned with a smirk.

Ryan had bounced over to them, looking slightly like a kicked puppy. Upon hearing her name however, he perked up slightly. "Doesn't Zahra mean flower in Egyptian?"

Instantly, Zahra's glare was back on full blast and focused completely and Ryan, who quickly shrank back again. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight; Zahra was only half the size of Ryan, and yet the werewolf was terrified of her.

"And this," Harry continued. "Is Ryan Henderson."

"Hi," Ryan greeted weakly, waving slightly. Zahra just continued to glare at him for a moment before dropping and giving him a small, albeit tight, smile.

"So," Zahra began, "Both of you are first years, right?"

Harry nodded in reply and Ryan did as well, though his was much more enthusiastic. Once again, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of a puppy. He carefully hid his sniggers, even though Ryan was too entranced by the petite Egyptian to even notice.

"Hey," Harry suddenly said, an idea popping into his head. "Ryan and I were just about to go out and explore Myrddin. Would you like to join us?"

Zahra blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the invitation. She stared at the two teens before her for a moment as if sizing them up. Finally, she nodded.

"Alright," she replied with a shrug. "Why not?"

Ryan looked as though he was about to do a jig out of happiness, so Harry quickly grabbed his arms. "Come on," he said motioning Zahra to follow while he dragged Ryan away. "Let's get moving; we only have a few hours."

"_Only,_" Ryan snorted as he allowed himself to be dragged out. "It's basically shopping for the Mother's sake. Even a single hour of shopping is too much."

Working off a hunch—and years of being around Ron—Harry grinned. "Unless it's shopping for sports, right?"

Ryan looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, yeah, but that's _sports._ It's different."

"_Sure _it is," Zahra commented sarcastically as she followed the two.

Harry chuckled as Ryan attempted to find something to say in return. Something, however, suddenly occurred to him. "Hey," Harry began, "What do you mean by 'The Mother'?"

Ryan looked at the dark haired mage in surprise before grinning again. "Ah, that's right; I still need to teach you some more about magical beings' cultures. Well, the Mother is the Mother Moon. She is our goddess and our Mother."

Zahra rolled her eyes. "Strange werewolf customs," she muttered under her breath. Speaking up, she continued, looking Harry straight in the eye. "Be glad that we're mages, Blake. We don't have to deal with all that shit."

Ryan looked infinitely confused. "But...but...It's the _Mother Moon._ How can you not...?"

Harry simply smirked and continued to walk out the double doors of the Caelestis Hotel with Ryan and Zahra following behind him. This was already turning out to be an interesting day.

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A/N: Wow, quick update. As for the whole thing about vampires not being able to survive in cold whether...Well, the reasons why humans have the temperatures that we do (enabling us to survive) is mainly because of the warm blood flowing through our veins. Vampires don't have _any_ blood in their veins though, which makes them a lot like cold blooded reptiles. And thus, similar to cold blooded reptiles, they have to get their heat from other sources—usually the sun.

The next chapter will be the last of the in-between chapters before the whole Silvermoor thing starts. It'll also introduce the last of the main characters for this story—there are two more, I believe.

Please review!

--S.R.


	8. Chapter 8: The Restaurant

Title: Shades of Gray: The Restaurant  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 4,635  
Story WC: 38,611  
Last Edited: November 16, 2008  
Posted: August 21, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 8  
_The Restaurant_

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Harry, Ryan, and Zahra were walking around the streets of Myrddin. None of them had bought anything, or really even gone into any stores, but they were having fun just looking. Already the three had been out for about two or three hours.

Harry smiled as they walked down a small side street. He was having a lot more fun that he had in years. No Voldemort breathing down his neck, no Order watching his every move, no expectations for him to act a certain way. It was just him and his two new friends walking anonymously through a crowd of other people.

Suddenly a large grumble erupted to his left. Quickly stopping, Harry looked around to find the source of the noise, only to see a sheepish looking Ryan rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh, sorry," he said as his face turned red. "I guess I'm a little hungry..."

Zahra rolled here eyes in the background. Harry thought that he heard her mutter "boys", but he wasn't entirely sure. Harry, however, just chuckled.

"Well, it is about lunchtime," he commented. "Why don't we all go get something to eat?"

Harry glanced around, checking to see if there was anything nearby. Out of the corner he caught sight of a small little restaurant tucked away between two larger buildings. It had a green painted front with black trimming and, for some reason, reminded Harry of one of those fancy Italian restaurants.

"Come on," Harry said as he began to make his way toward the small restaurant. "Let's go there."

Ryan and Zahra quickly followed behind him, though Zahra's eyes widened as they approached.

"We can't go there!" she hissed, tugging on Harry's arm to stop him. "I've heard of that place; it's _really_ expensive."

Harry blinked, surprised, then shrugged. "Don't worry, I'm paying."

Zahra's gaze shifted into a glare. "You don't understand. That restaurant, no matter how it appears on the outside, is _the_ most expensive restaurants in Myrddin and one of the most expensive in the magical world. It's where all of the clan heirs and the elites of the society tend to congregate."

Harry shrugged again. "I'm paying," he insisted. "It's not going to be a problem." Harry then strode confidently toward the restaurant, and Ryan and Zahra had no choice but to follow, no matter how hesitantly.

Harry was actually going into the restaurant for a reason other than just to eat. He knew that this was the time, more than any other time, to make a statement. He hated that he was going to have to flaunt his money, but in a world such as the one he was entering he had to make a name for himself. Unlike at Hogwarts, Harry didn't have any fame to set him apart from other people so, unfortunately, the only way to do so was through either money or power. Harry knew that he'd have to use both to get people to acknowledge him and get a place in this new, more animalistic world.

His head held high, Harry pushed open the door to the restaurant and stepped inside with Ryan and Zahra right on his heels. The inside of the small restaurant was definitely larger that it appeared on the outside. It was darker as well—and yet somehow also well lit—and was separated into many different booths, about half of which were already filled with people. The restaurant was set up so that everyone could see who else was there, and yet everyone also had complete privacy.

As soon and Harry, Ryan, and Zahra stepped into the restaurant, everyone's attention was focused on them, studying them. Ryan gulped, looking nervous, and Zahra glared at them all. Harry, however, just kept his head held high and focused his own attention on the waiter who approached them. A vampire, he thought.

"Table for three?" the vampire asked. Harry nodded, while carefully keeping his face serious.

The waiter led the group into the restaurant and seated them down at a fairly large round table that could probably seat a few more people. Harry noticed that most of the other people in the restaurant were still studying them out of the corner of their eyes. Most of those people—and indeed, almost all of the people there—were dressed in high quality clothing and appeared to be more aristocratic than most of the other people that he'd seen around Myrddin; this must be where those type of people came.

Once they were all settled down, Harry opened up the menu that had been set before him and took a look at what was offered. Zahra and Ryan did the same thing and Ryan's eyes immediately widened.

"Holy _shit_," he murmured, looking up at Harry worriedly. "This stuff _is_ expensive. Blake, are you sure...?"

"Don't worry," Harry repeated, not taking his eyes off the menu. Ryan and Zahra continued to stare at him for a moment before hesitantly looking back down at the menu.

It only took about five minutes after that for them all to order their food. They were sitting around the table, quietly chatting, when the door to the restaurant opened once more. Like everyone else, Harry and his friends also turned to look to see who entered. Surprisingly, it turned out to be Damion and another vampire.

Immediately, Damion and Harry's eyes met. Damion was surprised for a moment, before a smirk spread across his face. When a waiter came up to the aristocratic vampire, the two exchanged words for a moment before Damion headed over to where Harry was, the other vampire following behind him.

Damion came to a stop next to Harry. Harry could feel the gazes of everyone in the restaurant on them again, this time even more intensely than before. Perhaps Damion was as well known as Layla had hinted.

"Blake Gray," the vampire murmured by way of greeting.

"Damion Noctis," Harry returned with a smirk. He heard some kind of a chocking coming from where his two friends were seated, but he ignored it for the moment. "Please, have a seat."

Damion nodded graciously and then he and his friend sat down at the other two seats around the table. Harry took the time to study the other vampire who had come with Damion. He looked to be around the same age as all of them, was quite tall—though not as much as Ryan, so perhaps six foot or so—and had broad shoulders and defined muscles, but he was not too bulky. He had messy dark brown hair—so dark that Harry had thought that it was black for a moment—and crimson eyes. He was wearing a pair of black pants, a black muscle shirt, and a pair of black dragon-hide boots.

Seeing Harry's gaze, Damion spoke up. "This," he began, "Is Azrael Draconis. He is my cousin. Azrael, this is Blake Gray."

Harry exchanged murmured greetings with the other vampire, and then turned to Zahra and Ryan, seeing their wide eyes. "Damion," he said. "This is Ryan Henderson and Zahra Sadiki. Guys, this is Damion Noctis, my roommate."

"A pleasure, Lord Noctis," Zahra greeted, bowing her head. Harry stared at her, surprised, but Damion just smirked.

"Not yet, Miss Sadiki; I'm still only my father's heir."

Harry stared between the two of them, surprised, and decided that he'd definitely have to ask Zahra later about what they were talking about.

The group spent the meal chatting about random topics, particularly the school. Harry learned that, apparently, both Damion and Azrael's families had almost always attended Silvermoor. Ryan, on the other hand, was the first of his family to ever be accepted. A couple of people in Zahra's family had gone to the Academy before, but Zahra was the first in her immediate family.

Azrael, Harry found, wasn't much of talker, but he certainly had no problem saying something if he felt that it need to be said. Damion was always polite and formal when speaking, but he seemed to open up a bit more as time went by. Ryan, meanwhile, was a true jokester if Harry had ever met one. He loved to laugh and make others laugh. Zahra was fairly open, but she also had the most violent and volatile temper that Harry had ever seen. Over all, the group actually got on surprisingly well.

Finally, about an hour after Damion and Azrael had arrived, everyone finished eating and the waiter came over and left the check. Damion moved to pull out some money, but Harry stopped him with a motion.

"Don't worry," he said with a smirk while shaking his head. "I'm paying."

Damion stared at Harry incredulously for a moment, and then his eyebrows rose as he watched the dark haired mage pull out his mokeskin moneybag. Ignoring the gazes of everyone at the table, Harry pulled out the appropriate amount of gold and set it on the table—while mentally thanking any deities out there that he had thought to ask Grimsheild whether or not magical beings used the same currency as wizards; it would have been really embarrassing if they didn't.

Harry was just tucking his moneybag away once more, when he heard an irritable hissing next to his ear.

"_**Sure, let's forget that the snake might need food too!**_" Isis hissed with a glare as she poked her head out from under Harry's cloak.

Everyone at the table immediately started, surprised to see a snake suddenly pop up. Damion did react as much, having already known that the runespoor was there.

"Um, Blake..." Ryan started hesitantly. "You do know that there's a snake wrapped around your neck, right?"

Harry chuckled and placed a hand near his neck for the runespoor to climb onto. Once she was wrapped around said arm, Harry held his arm out so that everyone at the table could see her better.

"This is my familiar," he replied. "She's a runespoor. It's Layla, Kiya, and Isis, respectively." He motioned to each head as he spoke.

"Isis..." Zahra murmured. She lifted her gaze to meet Harry's. "It's interesting that you named her that."

Harry blinked. "I didn't, actually. It was already her name—or one of them, rather—when I got her."

"Interesting, still," Zahra continued. "Isis is the name of the Egyptian goddess of magic. It literally means 'queen of the throne'." Harry had to hold back a smirk; queen of the throne? Well, that certainly did fit Isis...

Zahra's brow furrowed. "Actually, now that I think about it, all of those names are Egyptian. Layla means 'born at night' and Kiya means 'jovial lady'.

It became even harder for Harry to keep his face straight; those names also hit pretty close to the mark, though the Layla one was a bit confusing. Harry suddenly wondered who had named the runespoor. Was it a human? Or perhaps another snake?

"Well," Damion said, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. "We'd better get going; Azrael and I have some things to attend to before we have to leave for Silvermoor." All of them stood up then to exchange their goodbyes.

"It was good to meet you," Azrael commented to Harry as the two stood off to the side. His crimson eyes momentarily reminded Harry of Voldemort, but at the same time there was something completely different about them.

"Yes, you too. I hope to see you around in Silvermoor."

Azrael smirked in reply, which surprised Harry because the teen had not shown much in the way of facial expressions during the lunch. "Yes," he commented, "Yes you will."

And with that mysterious statement Azrael turned around and began to head for the exit of the restaurant. Damion did a double take upon seeing his cousin leaving and then quickly bid goodbye to Harry before hurrying off after him. Harry, Ryan, and Zahra left just after the two, with the curious gazes of the restaurant's guests following them all the way out the door.

As soon as they were a good distance down the street, Harry turned to Zahra with a quizzical glance. "What did you mean by Lord Noctis?" he asked

Zahra blinked, surprised by the question. She stared at Harry for a moment before her eyes widened. "You mean you really didn't know, even though he's your roommate...?!"

Harry sighed. It seemed that there were even more things than he'd guessed that he didn't know.

"Well," Zahra began, "The Noctis clan is one of the thirteen head vampire clans, and one of the ones with the most power even among them. Damion Noctis is the heir to the clan right now. Someday, probably in a few hundred years, he'll take over for his father and take his place in the Ancient Council."

Harry stared blankly at her. _Damion_ was one of the vampire nobles? And the heir to his clan?

Before Harry could even fully process this new information, Zahra continued on. "And his cousin, Azrael Draconis," she said, "I think that he's the heir to his clan as well. The Draconis clan is one of the thirteen clans too, but one of the smaller ones. Despite that though, they're heralded as the clan with some of the greatest vampire warriors." Zahra shrugged slightly. "I'm not entirely sure why though; that's usually kept among the vampires."

Harry nodded and stared straight ahead while biting the inside of his lip thoughtfully. It seemed that Layla had been right; Damion _was_ from a strong clan.

Putting their thoughts behind them, the three new friends continued to walk around for another few hours, mostly just exploring and having fun. Ryan, however, soon remembered that he had promised to teach Harry a little bit more about the different societies of magical beings. And so, after a quick explanation to Zahra about Harry's background and lack of knowledge, the three found themselves sitting upon a short brick wall and pointing out different things.

"Alright," Ryan as he glanced around the street, "Next is elves. There are six different types of elves: wood elves, ice elves, flame elves, dark elves, nymphs, and merpeople. Yes, the merpeople are a type of elf, though wizards don't know it."

"Wizards don't even know that elves exist," Zahra muttered with a snort.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "They don't know that fayeries exist either, or true werewolves, or that vampire society is as advanced as it is. Anyway, all elves specialize in their element—flame elves with fire, wood elves with earth, etc. They can never learn any other type of element, which the other magical beings can, but their mastery over their own element far surpasses what anyone else could ever learn.

"You'll also find that their appearance generally reflects what type of elf they are. Wood elves, for example usually have hair that is some shade of brown and either blue or green eyes. This reflects nature and the earth."

"There's one," Zahra interrupted, pointing someone out.

Harry looked and saw a guy, perhaps nineteen years old, with light brown hair, forest green eyes, and pointed ears. Definitely an elf and, now that it had been explained to him, Harry could see how he could tell the he was a wood elf.

Ryan nodded. "Yep, that's a wood elf," he said. "Now, ice elves always have hair that is some shade of blue. Their eyes, however, are always black. Pure black. No one's quite sure how this reflects ice, but..." Ryan shrugged. Harry nodded, remembering what Headmistress Silvia had looked like and that she had been an ice elf. "True to their name, flame elves have flaming red hair," the werewolf continued. "There has, however, been a couple who were born with golden hair. This is very rare though and they have almost always turned out to be very powerful. Flame elves always have gold eyes."

"Dark elves," Zahra said, picking up where Ryan had left off, "Always have black hair and black eyes. Nothing much special there."

Ryan nodded his agreement. "Yes. Nymphs, however, are the most...different...breed of the elves."

"And rare," Zahra put in.

"Yes, very rare," Ryan continued. "In fact, they're not so much of a breed rather than a type of elf with particular abilities."

Harry stared at the werewolf, confused. Seeing his look, Ryan elaborated, "You see, most elves are the same race as their parents; just like humans. Nymphs, however, can be born into any race from some strange twist of genetics. They're also always female. They have white or silver hair and very pale eyes.

"Nymphs also have different abilities than most elves. They specialize in the element of light and in healing magic. In fact, some of the greatest healers of the magical world are nymphs."

"You'll never find one in a hospital though," Zahra continued. "In fact, they rarely use their healing abilities unless it's really needed. Nymphs are the priestesses of all the elves. Once a nymph is born they are immediately sent to the Elvin temple in Italy, where they are raised and trained."

"You won't see any nymphs at Silvermoor," said Ryan. "It's actually really rare to see them anywhere, unless you specifically go to the temple."

Harry nodded as he listened and absently picked out a couple of ice, flame, wood, and dark elves as they passed by. "What about the merpeople?" he asked.

"Ah, well, merpeople aren't technically elves, at least not anymore," Ryan replied. Harry stared at him, definitely confused. "Well you see, they used to be water elves and were very close relatives to the ice elves. Over several millennium however, they evolved and eventually lost their legs and began to live entirely in the water, until they became what you know of today. They are still just as magical as the rest of the elf races and can still manipulate water, but they rarely use any of their abilities."

Harry nodded, his mind reeling from all the information that he had just been given. There really was so much that wizards weren't aware of.

"What about their government?" Harry asked. "How they're organized, I mean."

Ryan opened his mouth to reply, but Zahra beat him to it. "Their system is that of a monarchy," she replied. "Or, rather, several monarchies. There are many different Elvin settlements all over the world, each one usually containing a single race; for some reason, they don't like mixing too much. I believe that wood elves have two settlements in Canada and one in the United States."

"The one in the states is in Colorado, in the Rocky Mountains," Ryan put in. "I've been there once. It's a pretty huge city; almost as big as San Francisco, though it doesn't hold quite so many elves."

"Really?" Zahra questioned. "Not too many people go to the settlement uninvited."

Ryan immediately perked up. "Yep!" he replied. "I went there on vacation, though I think that my pack had some important business there as well..."

Zahra just rolled her eyes. "Anyway," she continued. "There are four ice elf settlements: one in northern Canada, two in Russia, and one in the Himalayas. The flame elves have just one settlement in Africa; don't ask me where exactly, I don't know. Dark elves have a settlement in the Amazon Rainforest in Brazil, a settlement in the Black Forest in Germany, and a settlement in Japan.

"Each of these settlements is a monarchy with a king and/or queen. All the monarchs come together to form a council that rules over all the elves. The merpeople aren't a part of this council though and the nymphs don't really have much of a government since they're not really a race. I suppose that the temple has its own hierarchy though..."

"Wow," Harry said, blinking, "Elves certainly are a complex race...race_s_..."

"Yes," a voice behind the three suddenly spoke. "Though, of course, that's not even taking into account the crossbreeding that sometimes happens."

Harry, Ryan, and Zahra immediately jumped in surprise upon hearing the voice and nearly lost there balance on the brick wall. Harry carefully twisted around so that he could see behind himself. Standing there was a girl about their age with the pointed ears of an elf. She stood at about 5'7—so about as tall as Harry—with a slender frame, high cheekbones, and fair skin. She had long straight black hair that reached down to her lower back and a pair of long bangs framed her face, one of them black and one of the blue. Her eyes were a sharp ice blue and she had the pointed ears of an elf.

The teen was wearing a black t-shirt, a pair of baggy green cargo pants, and black combat boots that her pants were tucked into. Over all, she had a rather...unique...appearance. Harry couldn't quite place what race of elf she was. She appeared to be a dark elf, a wood elf, and an ice elf all at once.

"Er, hello," Ryan greeted. The elf shifted her penetrating gaze onto the werewolf but didn't say a word, causing him to shift uncomfortably. Harry, however, was a bit more interested in what she had said.

"Crossbreeding?"

The elf looked at the green eyed mage again. "Yes. Usually elves tend to marrying into their own race, but, occasionally, they will intermarry with other races of elves." Harry noticed that she had an American accent. She must have been from the settlement in Colorado then.

"You're of two different races, aren't you?" Ryan blurted out. Zahra glared at Ryan and reached around Harry to hit the werewolf over the head. The elf just smirked.

"Why, yes," she replied. "My mother was a wood elf and my father was an ice elf."

Ryan couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Why did she have black hair then? The blue eyes probably came from her mother and the blue bang from her father, but, following along that line of thought, her hair should have been brown.

The four stayed in awkward silence for a moment before Zahra finally hopped of the short brick wall and extended her hand to the elf.

"I'm Zahra Sadiki," the Egyptian said. The elf paused for a moment before smirking again and shaking her hand.

"Senka Williams."

Harry and Ryan quickly followed Zahra's example and hopped down off the wall as well.

"Blake Gray,"

"Ryan Henderson."

Senka nodded to the two in greeting, folding her arms beneath her chest. Again, the group paused awkwardly for a moment before, once again, Zahra spoke up.

"We were just explaining about the different societies of magical beings to Blake."

Senka raised an eyebrow, but, fortunately for Harry, didn't ask any questions. Instead, she simply said, "Indeed. Then, I have to agree, elves are one of the most complex societies. That, of course, says nothing for the intricate politics of vampires and werewolves; we just have royal families who take care of the governing."

Ryan looked indignant for a moment—though knowing what she said was completely true—but Zahra cracked a grin and nodded. "So true," she replied. "Would you like to help us then? We still haven't covered fayeries."

"Sure," Senka said with a shrug. The group then climbed back up onto the short wall they had been sitting on before, with Senka seated next to Zahra.

"Well," Ryan began, "Fayeries are one of the more...interesting...races of magical beings. They are the human sized, intelligent, magical being race of the Fairy Family. Said Family includes fairies, doxies, pixies, erklings, leprechauns, and fayeries. Unlike fairies, doxies, pixies however, fayeries don't have wings. Rather, their magic takes the shape of a large pair of glowing wings on their back when it is released.

"All fayeries have very pale hair. They have pointed ears, but much less so than elves; in fact, it's usually barely visible. Their main distinguishing feature is their teeth, which are _all_ very sharp, pointy, and creepy. It's always freaked me out." Ryan shivered slightly, and Harry couldn't help but agree. "You might also notice that they sometimes tend to glide rather than walk, though I have no idea how they do that.

"Fayeries specialize in healing and divination. Some of them even have the rare ability to divine the location of objects. They also have a special connection with animals. Animals seem to trust them and fayeries can understand them up to a certain point. Fayeries main special ability, however, are 'fairy rings', which you may have heard of before in muggle legends. They are identified as rings of inedible mushrooms, about five feet in diameter. Fayeries—and only fayeries—can use these to transport to any other fairy ring in the world."

"For example," Zahra said. "If a fayerie stepped into a fairy ring in Mexico, they could then transport themselves to another fairy ring in India."

"Or France," Ryan continued with a grin. "Or any other ring in the world. And believe me when I say that there are _thousands_ of fairy rings. Well, anyways, the fayeries homeland is a large, unplottable island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. The only way to get there is through a fayerie ring, and non-fayeries can only go if invited. The island is called Avalon—"

"Or Tir-na-nog," Senka suddenly said.

Surprised, the others turned to look at her. Harry was embarrassed to realize that he'd almost forgotten that she was there.

Seeing, Harry, Zahra, and Ryan's looks, Senka explained, "Avalon is also called Tir-na-nog in the fayeries' language."

Harry blinked. "The fayeries have their own language?"

This time it was Zahra who answered him. "Yes, and, apparently, it's one that they automatically know from birth. No one's quite sure how it works, and the fayeries aren't saying anything."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, and since all fayeries are born on Avalon—or Tir-na-nog, if you will—no one ever sees a fayerie until they come to Silvermoor or another school, unless under special circumstances."

Harry could understand what they were saying, though it was fairly surprising to learn that even magical beings knew so little about fayeries. No wonder wizards didn't even know that they existed!

"What about their government?" Harry asked. "If they live in only one place..."

Ryan quirked a grin. "Their government is also a monarchy, though it's a bit different from the elves'. Avalon is ruled by a king and queen who are a part of a royal family. There are also many different families of nobles. It's really like a medieval society."

Harry hummed under his breath, mulling over the information that he'd just been given. It seemed that there was even more to the different races of magical beings than had been detailed in the book he'd found, Branches of Magic.

"Hey," Zahra said suddenly, "What time is it?"

Harry paused then, his eyes widening, and he and Ryan exclaimed at the same time, "Oh shit!" They had to leave at three and it was approaching the hour. They still needed to get back to the hotel and gather their things.

Quickly, Harry, Ryan, Zahra, and Senka leapt off the short brick wall and began hurrying toward the Caelestis Hotel. Even Senka, who didn't seem to be the type to panic to Harry, was taking very long strides.

It took the group nearly fifteen minutes to get to the Square. It was even busier than it had been the day before when Harry and Ryan had first arrived. The group carefully maneuvered their way across the Square to the hotel. Once inside, they split up—Harry and Ryan were on the second floor while Zahra and Senka both turned out to be on the fifth floor. Once Harry arrived at his room, he too bid goodbye to Ryan and then slipped inside.

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A/N: Damn. I meant to get them all into Silvermoor in this chapter, but the dialogue and the explanations went on longer than I expected, so the _next_ chapter will be all about them starting the Academy. This chapter will also be the last of the major explanations. There'll still be bits of information here and there—especially has Harry get more involved in this world—but that was the bulk of it. A lot of the information about fayeries was derived from myths about fairies and then twisted to fit my needs.

I should also mention that Harry isn't just randomly powerful or anything. There a very specific reason for how/why he has the control over his magic that he does, as well as why he's mage (since he was born from two wizards). Unfortunately, this explanation won't come for a while yet, when Harry himself finds out about it.

And for those who've been asking: Yes, Dumbledore and the rest of the canon's characters' reactions will most _certainly_ be shown. In fact that and the following events will be a relatively big part of the story.

Please review!

--S.R.


	9. Chapter 9: The Academy

Title: Shades of Gray: The Academy  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 7,133  
Story WC: 45,744  
Last Edited: November 17, 2008  
Posted: October 16, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 9  
_The Academy_

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_It took the group nearly fifteen minutes to get to the Square. It was even busier than it had been the day before when Harry and Ryan had first arrived. The group carefully maneuvered their way across the Square to the hotel. Once inside, they split up—Harry and Ryan were on the second floor while Zahra and Senka both turned out to be on the fifth floor. Once Harry arrived at his room, he too bid goodbye to Ryan and then slipped inside.  
_  
Glancing around at the hotel room, Harry found that Damion's things were already gone; he must have already come and gotten them. Harry picked up the few items that he had unpacked and placed them back in his trunk. His familiar was still around his shoulder, and he didn't feel like moving her, so Harry left the runespoor alone. Instead, he simply locked his trunk, shrunk it, and then placed it in his pocket. Then, with one last glance around the room, he silently left.

A quick look around the hall told Harry that Ryan wasn't done yet, so the mage made his way back down to the lobby. To his surprise, it was almost completely filled with nearly two hundred people. They all appeared to be around sixteen years old—most likely all the first years.

Harry glanced around for a moment longer to see if he could see anyone that he recognized. When all he saw was a sea of faces however, he just leaned back against a nearby wall to wait.

Harry stood there observing his peers for several minutes until he heard someone come up next to him. A glance up revealed that it was Damion and Azrael.

Damion nodded composedly in greeting. Next to him, Azrael did the same before folding his arms in front of him and leaning against the wall. Harry glanced down as he felt some brush against his leg. As soon as he did however, he immediately froze. Sitting there, looking up at him, was what appeared to be a gigantic leopard. Sitting as it was its head reached up nearly to his chest. Harry guessed that standing it would be about as high as his waist.

"Uh, Damion," Harry began, keeping his eyes fixated onto the beast. "Is that...?"

Seeing Harry's expression, Damion grinned. He then reached out a hand and pet the large cat. It growled happily at the touch and the loud rumble sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

"This is Nyx, my familiar," he told Harry. "She's a nundu."

Harry just continued to stare blankly at the beast before him. A nundu...? Harry remembered reading about them in a book in Hogwarts. It had said that they were gigantic leopards that moved silently despite their size and whose breath caused disease potent enough to wipe out entire villages. It had never yet been subdued by fewer than a hundred skilled wizards working together. Nundu were often considered more dangerous even than dragons, and Damion had one as a familiar...!

Harry caught another bit of movement from the corner of his eye and, after looking up, he froze once again. Next to Azrael was another large beast. This one, however, was unlike anything that Harry had ever seen before. It had the lead of a lion, the body of a goat, and a dragon's tail. Over all it was about five feet in length and stood up to Azrael's waist.

After a moment of staring, Harry realized that it was a chimera. Again, he was quite shocked. To his knowledge, there had only ever been one successful slaying of a chimera. Did everyone here have such incredibly dangerous familiars—for he was sure that it was Azrael's familiar—or just the vampires?

Just at that moment Zahra and Senka approached the three. Harry grinned upon seeing the two. He may have only met Senka not a half an hour earlier, but it was still good to see some more friendly faces.

"Senka," Harry began, stepping away from the wall that he'd been leaning against. "This is Damion Noctis and Azrael Draconis. Guys, this is Senka Williams."

Senka nodded serenely at the two, who replied in a similar manner. Damion and her locked eyes then and began to stare at each other, as if locked in a battle of wills. Well, Harry thought, they both did have pretty piercing gazes...

The group of five stood silently for another minute, waiting to leave. Just as it turned three o'clock Ryan suddenly came rushing down the stairs. He immediately spotted the group and walked over to them while sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey guys," he greeted. He opened his mouth to say more, but before he could the fayerie from the day before, Professor Cyan, spoke up.

"If you are not a first year, leave the room now," she said loudly. Everyone quickly quieted down. "If there are any first years that are not here yet, don't tell me; it's their problem for not being on time. Everyone else, please follow me. Do not wander off; you're not children and I'm not going to treat you like you are. If you get lost, then you can find your way to the school on your own."

Professor Cyan than turned on her heel and walked out of the hotel. In streams, the crowd in the lobby began to follow her. Harry, meanwhile, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, once again quite glad that he wasn't taking Healing this year.

Getting out of the hotel took a little while. Considering that there were two hundred people trying to get through a single door, it really wasn't all that surprising. Once Harry and his friends had finally gotten out they found themselves swept up through the sea of first years moving down one of the four main streets of Myrddin, heading toward one of the gates. Harry struggled to stay with his friends and they only just barely managed it.

Harry was surprised to learn, as they neared the gate, that the gate exited to the land outside of Nuuk. It seemed that Myrddin actually was on the edge of the city.

It took a little while for everyone to make their way through the gate. Once everyone had passed through however, they found themselves standing around in a group just outside the gate.

Harry and his group of friends edged themselves around the outside of the group so that they were closer to the front. What Harry saw there made his eyes widen: There was a mass of stables right in front of them. Said stables could probably house hundreds of horses.

And, indeed it seemed that it did, for, to Harry's shock, there were several hundred horses lined up in front of the group of new students. They weren't just any horses however; Harry recognized them as abraxans; a breed of winged horses that were basically immensely powerful giant palominos. Their large wings stretched out nearly ten feet on either side of them.

The abraxans were all attached to sleek black carriages in teams of two. Though fairly similar to the ones at Hogwarts, these carriages looked as though they could hold about six people. Plus, they didn't have wheels, which made they look like odd giant boxes.

"These, if you didn't know, are abraxans," Professor Cyan told the large group. They will be taking you to the Academy. During the school year, you will be able to use the abraxans to get from the school to Myrddin and back. You'll be able to use either a single abraxan or a carriage, if you're a part of a group. Now, everyone please find a carriage."

The sixteen year old quickly rushed forwards. Harry and his group shared a look before heading to one of the carriages off to the side. True to Harry's earlier thought, the carriage fit the six of them in perfectly. Harry, who'd been the last one into the carriage, shut the door behind him and then took the last empty spot in the corner, across from Damion.

Through the carriages open windows Harry could see out and watch everyone scramble around. '_Like ants,_' he observed with no small amount of amusement. '_They all look like ants, even though the carriages aren't much taller than them._'

It took about five minutes for everyone to get into their carriages. Once that was done, the abraxans acted on some unheard signal and suddenly took to the sky.

Harry immediately grabbed the side of the carriage as it jerked. Several people gasped as they suddenly rose off the ground. In fact, it seemed that Senka was the only person in the carriage who didn't react at all; she just sat there, looking as composed at usual. In front of them, the two abraxans pulling their carriage beat their powerful wings and soared forward.

It took another five minutes for Harry to become fully accustomed to riding in a flying carriage. It was pretty stable though, so he guessed that the carriage was spelled to fly. The mage concentrated on the wood of the carriage beneath his hand then, acting upon instinct. True to his thoughts, he noticed that he could feel the carriage hum with magic beneath his hand; it seemed to be saturated with energy.

Harry turned his thoughts away from the carriage beneath him to the landscape that they were flying over. It was green beneath them, he noticed, and forested.

"I thought that Greenland was supposed to be mostly rocks and ice," Harry murmured out.

"That's what the muggles and wizards think," Damion stated. Blinking, Harry looked up at the vampire, who was smirking. "They know how big Greenland is, of course, and they think that they've explored all of it. But they haven't. Muggles—and by extension, wizards—have actually only explored a very small amount of the country, along the edges. They believe that they've crossed it entirely, of course, but that's just what our enchantments make them think. The reality is that most of Greenland—the wild, uninhabitable part—has been enchanted and 'tucked away' from the world. Most of Greenland is now a magical creature reserve."

Harry blinked again, surprised. Greenland had been turned into a reserve? That was...interesting...

Seeing Harry's pensive expression, Damion's smirk widened. "The land is very different than you'd think," he continued, "And has all different types of terrain. You'll find almost every type of magical creatures here, including some that wizards don't even know exist."

At the moment Ryan, who was leaning slightly out of the window on the other side of the carriage, gasped in surprise. "Look!" he exclaimed excitedly. "A barghest! I've never seen one before."

Following Ryan's example, everyone quickly looked outside to the ground below. There, Harry caught a glimpse of a shadow running through the trees beneath them. It crossed into a meadow suddenly though, and four others suddenly appeared out of the forest behind it.

They were large dogs, Harry noticed, almost as big as Nyx, Damion's nundu. He continued to stare at them for a moment, before suddenly realizing that they looked exactly like the Grim. Harry felt himself paling; could he never escape the Grim? It seemed to follow him every where he went, and not just in the metaphorical sense. But what was it that Ryan had called them? Barghests? He was sure that he'd heard of them before in English legend as basically the equivalent of Grims.

"Doom dogs," Senka murmured, staring down at the large dogs with interest, "Hell hounds, Grims." Harry guessed that these were all other names for the barghests. A light smile came onto the elf's face. "They can only be found here in Greenland now." Damion absently nodded his agreement as he too watched the beasts run through the forest.

Ryan, meanwhile, seemed to be completely star struck. He watched the barghest run with complete awe in his face. Harry guessed that it was a werewolf thing.

The rest of the flight lasted just over two hours. During that time, Harry learned just what Damion had meant when he'd said that the terrain was varied; they passed over a rainforest, part of a desert, some mountains, and a vast plain. Currently they were flying over a forested area again, though it wasn't as thick as it had been before. It was quite a strange experience to see so many different landscapes in one area, but Harry figured that he _had_ seen stranger things.

Finally something manmade came into view—well, technically not _man_ made—and Harry leaned further out his window to get a better looked. As they approached he let out a gasp.

It was castle, or, rather was castle-like. It didn't have the turrets and towers of a castle. It was, however, a large, sprawling building. Harry figured that it couldn't be more the three stories tall, but it covered at least a square mile of land. The building was made of out some sort of silver material that shined in the afternoon light. It wasn't metal—though Harry wasn't sure how he knew that—but rather seemed to be some sort of a silver stone; Harry had never seen anything like it before.

Harry and everyone else in the carriage continued to watch the building as it drew steadily closer. It appeared to be a fairly complex building with several different main complexes close together and many winding halls connecting them all. It also had vast grounds in the immediate area. Said grounds included a gigantic garden and many paths snaking along. Harry thought that he saw a large stable and pasture off to the side as well, doubtlessly for the abraxans.

Harry kept his eyes fixed to the building as the carriage descended to the ground. Soon they landed with a light thump in the middle of a grassy area just before what Harry knew was the Silvermoor Academy of Magic. Everyone in the carriage waited until they came to a complete stop, then they quickly piled out. Harry, being closest to the door, was the first one out and he took that time to get a good look around him and take stock of his surroundings.

It seemed that most of the carriages had arrived already and the last few were coming in just behind them. Most of the other students were gathered up ahead, near where the gigantic black front gates of the school were. Harry paused for a moment and then began to make his way toward the gates as well. Behind him, his friends began to follow.

By the time that Harry made to the group by the front gate, just about all of the first years had arrived and gathered. Once again Harry led his friends around the edge of the group so that they were closer to the front.

Now that he was so close to the building, Harry could see that it was indeed made of some silver stone. The large black doors though seemed to be made completely of obsidian.

Standing in front of the large group of students was Headmistress Mikhailov. Harry recognized her immediately; he had seen her only a month ago. The Headmistress stood before the students, waiting patiently until everyone had gathered. Once they had, she began to speak, and everyone instantly went silent.

"Welcome, first years, to Silvermoor Academy of Magic," the older ice elf stated loudly. "I am Silvia Mikhailov, your Headmistress. Before you are the doors to the Entrance Hall. Once you pass through these doors you will officially be students of the Academy, the most prestigious school in the magical world. Several of your number will not graduate from this school, be due to their own reasons or death." Everyone grew fairly solemn as the Headmistress spoke, realizing the truth of her words. "Several of your number will become immensely powerful and recognized throughout the magical world." Here some people perked up and several of the more cocky students even smirked. "But all of you," Headmistress Mikhailov continued, ignoring the reactions, "Will have to work your hardest to succeed. You are the best of the best. Act like it, or you may find that the world is not quite as forgiving as you'd first thought."

And with those sharp words, the Headmistress turned around and the great obsidian doors opened up before her. She then strode inside and the students quickly poured in after her.

Harry once again found himself swept up into the crowd as they moved forward and was brought into the large Entrance Hall. Large, however, was an understatement; he was pretty sure that it was bigger than the Great Hall at Hogwarts! The walls themselves were made of the same smooth silver stone as the outside of the building. However, within the Entrance Hall the walls were completely covered with intricate carvings. Unfortunately, he couldn't get close enough to see exactly what the carvings were of.

On the other side of the Entrance Hall was a long hall—an actual _hall_, unlike the Entrance Hall—with many large archways acting as doors along the way. The Headmistress continued to lead the group down said hall, before turning into the first archway on the left. The archway, Harry noticed, was the largest of all of the ones that he could see, reaching nearly up to the ceiling.

The first years quickly followed after the Russian ice elf and found themselves standing in what appeared to be a huge dining area. There were hundreds upon hundreds of tables set up all around the room, which in itself could probably fit two or three of Hogwarts Great Hall within its walls. At the front of the room, opposite from the archway, was one long table; the staff table, Harry guessed. It seemed that some things _were_ pretty similar to Hogwarts, at least in some sense.

Once everyone was crowded around in the large room, Headmistress Mikhailov spoke up once more. "This," she explained, "Is the Banquet Hall. You will come here each day to eat your meals. More precise schedules will be included in your timetables, which you will receive later. The building you are currently in is known as the Alpha Building. The other main buildings of the school include the Beta, Gamma, and Delta Buildings.

"The last main building, and the largest one, is the dorms. The dorms are where all of the students—from all years—stay. The dorms, unlike many other schools, are one room per person. You are all allowed to choose which room you would like. Whichever room you choose will be yours for the rest of your stay here at Silvermoor Academy. This year, first years will be occupying floor number two. Fourth years have floor one, second years have floor three, and third years have floor four; we rotate each year as a floor opens up due to graduating students. I advise you to be careful not to wander into the floors of other years uninvited; they might not appreciate it." The Headmistress smirked darkly.

"You will find the dorm building by going straight down this hall—" The Headmistress motioned to the long hall that they had just come from. "—and exciting through the large double doors at the end. There you will find what is known as the Crossways. The Crossways is the large outdoor intersection which you will all find yourself using to get to different buildings. The largest building straight across the Crossways is the dorms; you won't be able to miss it.

"Starting in just a moment, you will have one hour to get unpacked and settled in. You may do whatever you want with your rooms. I suggest that you make them comfortable; they will be your main homes for the next four years." The Headmistress paused and then waved a hand absently. "Now go find your dorms."

Immediately following her dismissal the group of students turned about and moved back into the hall. Harry walked calmly next to his friends as the whole group of first years surged forward, following the Headmistress's directions.

The hallway was indeed pretty long and they passed many doorways as they went. Harry guessed that they were some of the classrooms. The building that they were in—the Alpha Building, apparently—seemed to be pretty large. Before long however, the dark haired mage saw a large pair of obsidian double doors come into view. They were not as large as the main front ones—_those_ ones had to be at least fifteen feet tall—but they were still pretty big. The students in front pushed the doors open and continued on.

The sight on the other side of those doors was fairly surprising. They led outside, that much was clear, Harry thought as he stepped beyond the doors. Stretching out before them was a covered stone walkway, kind of like the ones at Hogwarts. It led to a large, circular stone area that had to be at least two to three hundred feet in diameter.

Staring at it as he approached, Harry guessed that it was the Crossways. His assumption was solidified by the fact that there were three other walkways, besides the one that he and the others were walking along, attached to it. From what Harry could see, those walkways led to the other huge buildings on the grounds.

Glancing at the area outside of the stone walkway and either side of him, Harry saw numerous plants and trees. He could also see innumerous pathways winding their way across the grounds. That must be the large gardens that he'd seen from the air.

The students continued to move forward across the large area known as the Crossways. The stones beneath their feet caused the noise to be amplified, making the entire area ring with the racket of the students' voices and footsteps.

True to the Headmistress's word, one of the other stone walkways stretched out on the opposite side of the Crossways. Said walkway lead to a building much taller than any of the other ones—it had four floors. The building was also very wide and numerous balconies could be seen on each and every floor. Some of the rooms had balconies then? Harry grinned at the thought.

The first years all immediately recognized the building for what it was; the dorms. The group rushed forward across the stone walkway toward the large archway the led into the dorm building. As Harry walked through it himself, he noticed that the archway was just about as tall as the one that led into the Banquet Hall, and even wider.

On the other side of the tall archway was what appeared to be an atrium. The floor was made of mosaic tiles and was completely devoid of any furniture. Harry estimated that the area was just a little smaller than the Crossways. From the atrium there were multiple black spiral staircases leading upward to the different floors. The black almost looked sinister, considering that even the dorm building was made out of the strange silver stone.

Harry noticed that there were two staircases leading up to each floor—and _only_ that floor. That equaled six staircases, since there were just three smaller archways that led into the first floor.

After a moment's pause, Harry began to head toward one of the staircases that lead to the second floor. He could hear others, including his five friends, following his lead.

The staircase led to another stone archway, which led into a long carpeted hall. Harry began to stride down that hall, passing many doors along the way. After a bit, he finally came to another hall running perpendicular to the one he'd been walking down. Harry smirked slightly; by his calculations, this was one of the halls that ran against the outside of the building, meaning that they had balconies.

Harry turned right at the intersection and walked for only a little bit further before coming to a stop. In front of him was dark wooden door with "372B" on it in silver letters. Ryan, Zahra, Senka, Damion, and Azrael came up behind Harry. They glanced around for a moment before choosing their own rooms as well.

Harry was honestly a bit surprised that they had followed him like they had. After all, even if the six of them were becoming friends, they had only just met within the last two days. He didn't have a problem with it of course—he supposed that he was used to being a leader—but it still perplexed him a bit. Wasn't Damion the heir to one of the most powerful vampire clans? If he was, then why did he just follow Harry's lead, with that amused smirk on his face all the while?

Pushing his questions out of his head, Harry turned the handle of the door before him and stepped into his new room. The room was quite a bit larger than Harry had expected—but of course it did make sense since he would quite literally be living in it. It was also sectioned into two parts, which had any empty doorway connecting them.

The first room, which Harry was standing in, appeared to be a square shaped living room/study type area. It was big, but it had two basic couches, two comfy chairs, and a coffee table on one side, and a desk and a book shelf on the other side. Somehow the room managed to be spacious, even though it was completely filled up.

Done with looking at the front room, Harry stepped through the doorway and into the second room, which appeared to be a bedroom. Against the wall there was a bed, with a nightstand next to it. Across from the bed was a wardrobe and, on either side of that, were two doors. The wall across from the doorway that Harry was standing in was mostly filled up with a slide door and a balcony.

Harry did a quick check of the two doors in the room and found that one of them led into a closet, and the other into a bathroom. He snooped around the area for another moment, checking everything out. Then, when he was finally satisfied, Harry turned his attention back to the balcony and approached.

The view outside of the balcony was quite peaceful; Harry's room apparently was on the backside of the dorm building, so all he could see was trees and nature, with no buildings in sight. Harry smiled lightly and then turned back to his room. Right, now it was time to start changing things.

It took him only a few minutes to change things to look the way he preferred. Grinning at the work that he'd done with the room, Harry then turned his attention to the empty doorway that connected the front room and his bedroom. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do with it; he didn't want people to be able to see into his bedroom, but he didn't want to put a door there either.

Suddenly an idea came into Harry's mind, causing him to grin widely. With a slight bounce in his step, the mage headed over to the doorway and got to work, using his magic extensively.

Finally, a couple minutes later, Harry stepped back and admired his work. In the doorway, there was now a curtain, for lack of a better word, of gray mist. He couldn't see through to the other side, and neither could any one on the other side.

Harry stretched his hand toward the mist and then grinned when it went straight through as if nothing was there. He had charmed the mist to solidify upon contact, so that no one could pass through. If a person's magical signature was keyed into it like his was, however, then they could pass through the barrier like nothing was there. Harry continued to grin, almost amazed with the idea that he had come up with.

Harry continued to stare at the mist for a moment before suddenly twisting his magic slightly. Instantly, the mist became transparent, so that he could see through to the other side. Now he could see through the barrier, but no one else would be able to.

Harry chuckled lightly and then walked straight through the curtain of mist. He had to wrinkle his nose slightly at the room on the other side; it looked even worse now that he had fixed up his bedroom. And so, with a sigh, Harry went about fixing the front room as well.

Once he was done Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He loved the way that his dorm looked now, but all of that extensive magic had made him tired...And hungry. Harry was definitely glad that they'd be eating soon. Harry sighed once more; now all he had to do was get everything unpacked.

It took Harry well over fifteen minutes to get completely settled in. He transferred all of his clothes and items into the closet and wardrobe, although some of his more important items were left locked in his trunk, which was resting at the foot of his bed. He had also moved all of his books into the two new bookshelves that he had. The books that he didn't care if people saw or read were placed in the bookshelf in the front room. The rest of the books were in the bookshelf in his bedroom, which was now spelled to allow no one but him take them off their shelves.

The last thing that Harry had done in his unpacking was to create a large aquarium tank for his runespoor. Said tank was about five feet long and two and half feet wide. It was now resting up against the same wall as the balcony door was on, with his contented familiar inside. The tank had no lid so that she could come out whenever she wanted.

Harry let out a breath—now _definitely_ tired and hungry. He was about to collapse back on his bed, when a loud knock suddenly came on the door to his dorm.

Harry blinked, surprised. Then he let out a sigh and, with one last forlorn glance at his bed, headed out into the front room. He paused before the dark wooden door that led out into the hall and then turned the handle.

Standing on the other side of the door was a grinning Ryan. Harry quirked a grin in reply, and then opened the door wide, silently inviting the werewolf in.

Ryan blinked as he stepped into Harry's dorm, surprised. He stared at the blood red walls for a moment, then at Harry, before finally just shaking his head without a word. He saw the comfortable couches and chairs out of the corner of his eye and then quickly made a beeline for them. He immediately plopped down on one of the couches and made himself comfortable.

"Man," Ryan groaned. "How come your dorm room is so much more awesome than mine? All I've got is plain furniture..."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I had to change the rooms myself you know," he drawled.

Ryan blinked and then immediately colored. "I knew that," he muttered.

Harry simply chuckled in reply, leaning against the back of the other couch. Ryan continued to glance around the front room, when his gaze finally landed on the doorway to Harry's bedroom. Upon seeing the Curtain of Mist—which Harry finally decided to call it—his eyes widened.

"Cool!" Ryan breathed, jumping up. He rushed over to the doorway and stopped before it. Tentatively he reached out to touch the mist and then breathed in sharply, his eyes widening even further, when it solidified into a hard wall beneath his touch.

Harry chuckled once more as he moved to stand next to his friend. He then reached his hand out, and it went straight through mist unhindered. Ryan's eyes widened even more.

"How come you can go through it?" he asked almost indignantly.

Harry just gave him a cheeky grin. "Because that's the way I spelled it to work. I can see through it too." Ryan sniffed in mock resentment, though the effect was ruined by the slight grin that crossed his face.

"Man," he said, moving back to the couch, "You really _do_ know how to use your magic." He sank down into the couch once more, draping himself across it.

Harry opened his mouth to reply when suddenly another knock came at the door. This time it was Damion standing outside, his hands shoved in his pockets and looking for all the world like he'd never been more relaxed. Harry held back a grin and held the door open for him to enter. The vampire did so with a polite nod to Harry, which was returned.

Similarly to Ryan, Damion raised an eyebrow at Harry's room, but did not say a word. Instead he simply inspected it silently, cocking his head slightly when he saw the Curtain of Mist. Once he was satisfied—though exactly _what_ he was satisfied with Harry didn't know—he sat down on the couch opposite the one Ryan was currently covering.

Harry moved to join the two when another knock came at his door. He froze in mid motion and found that the corner of his eye was twitching slightly. Silently—and ignoring the amused looks that Ryan and Damion were giving him—Harry opened his door once again.

Now both Zahra and Senka were standing outside the door. Harry stared blankly at them for a moment before sighing and once again holding his door open for the two. He was just about to close the door again when Azrael stepped out of his own room. Harry sighed again and held his down open all the while, while jerking his head, motioning for the vampire to join them.

Once everyone was inside, Harry finally shut his door before magically locking it. He then purposefully strode over to one of the chairs in the room and dropped down into it. Senka was seated across from him, in the only other chair, while Azrael had joined Damion on one of the couches. Zahra approached the remaining seat next to Ryan, shoved the werewolf's feet off the spot, and then sat down as well.

Now that they were all seated, Harry let his head drop backward against the back of his chair. Of course they had chosen _his_ dorm to all gather in.

"You know," Ryan commented, "We should create someway for all of us to easily come here from our own rooms."

Harry gave the werewolf a flat stare, to which Ryan replied with a simple grin. Harry heard chuckles from someone else as well, but he wasn't sure who.

"Or how 'bout not," Harry replied wryly.

From there the group descended into meaningless chatter, which even Senka and Azrael eventually took part in. Before they knew it, another half an hour had passed and they were due down in the Banquet Hall.

Harry and the others stood up from their seats and stretched before making their way out of the dorm. Harry carefully locked his door behind him, spelling it so that no one but him could open it; he'd already done the same with the balcony door. He then followed his friends out of the dorm building and back into the Alpha building. Once there, they all traveled down the hall—which was dotted with a few other first years—and into the Banquet Hall.

To Harry's surprise the Banquet Hall was already almost completely filled with students; it appeared that all of the other years had already arrived. It was only the first years that were still trickling in.

After pausing in the entrance to the Banquet Hall for a moment, Harry spotted an empty round table off to the side. He then picked his way around people, heading toward the table. Once again he could hear his friends following behind him. Why they kept leaving decisions up to him was beyond him, but he didn't really mind.

Once he reached the table, Harry chose a seat where he could see most of the room and have very few people behind him. Some people might call him paranoid, but he preferred the term "prepared", especially considering how his life had gone so far.

Glancing down at the table once they were all seated, Harry noticed that plates and silverware for all of them suddenly appeared. Enchanted tables, Harry thought curiously. Sure enough, when he lightly touched the table he could feel magic humming along it. Harry also couldn't help but wonder if these tables were anything like the ones at Hogwarts; those were magical too. And on that train of thought, did magical beings have house elves too? Some of them were certainly as high-class and snooty as some wizards that he could name.

Harry looked thoughtful a moment, before turning his gaze to Damion, who was watching him amusedly. "Do magical beings have house elves?" Harry finally asked.

Damion blinked, surprised by the sudden—and seemingly random—question. "Not really," he finally answered, composing himself. "A few do, but most hire actual servants. It's much better than having little creatures running around your house."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "True enough."

Before the conversation could continue further menus suddenly appeared on everyone's plates. Harry blinked, taken aback, as he stopped himself from jumping up in surprise. Noticing that everyone around him was picking up their menus, Harry followed suit and felt his eyes widen at the expansive list of dinner items that he found.

"One of the interesting features of Silvermoor Academy is their menus," Damion commented offhandedly as he read his own menu. Most of the other people at the table look up at, interested. "Surprisingly, they work a lot like a muggle touch screen. You lightly tap an item to select it, tap it again to unselect it if you decide that you don't want it, and then once you've chosen your full meal, you tap the 'Done' at the bottom of your menu."

Harry looked down at the bottom of his menu and, sure enough, the word "Done" was there. Curious, he tapped a random food item on the menu and it immediately highlighted itself. Harry tapped the same item again, and it went back to normal.

Harry felt himself grinning despite himself. This was ingenious! And considering that there were only dinner items—and drinks and deserts, he noticed—on the menu, he guessed that there were different menus for each meal.

Harry took a few minutes to scan the menu—which held a surprisingly large variety of food items, before finally choosing a couple things and pressing down on "Done". Instantly, the menu in his hands disappeared and food appeared on his plate. Harry managed to control his surprised reaction, but he couldn't help the small smile that came onto his face. Already his stay at this school was quite interesting.

The rest of the dinner was fairly uneventful, with only a bit of small talk going around the table. Damion even ate as politely, Harry found, while Ryan practically wolfed his food down. He _was_ a werewolf, granted, but his actions also kind of reminded Harry of how Ron ate.

Quickly, Harry pulled his eyes away from Ryan. He really wasn't ready to deal with homesickness yet. He knew that he was going to miss his friends, but he had to do this if he ever wanted to defeat Voldemort, gain control of his powers, and simply fit in the world. Plus, he was already starting to form a group of new friends...

Before Harry knew it everyone had finished dinner. Once the clanging of silverware on plates had completely died down, the Headmistress Mikhailov stood up from her place at the head table. Immediately the entire banquet Hall went silent as the students shifted their attention onto her.

"Welcome, everyone," the Headmistress began, "To yet another year at Silvermoor Academy." She paused then and smirked. "I believe that you'll find that we have a particularly...interesting...group of students this year. As usual, you will find your schedule in your room tomorrow morning. Classes will start first thing tomorrow after breakfast. In the meantime, everyone have a good night."

As soon as she'd finished, conversation immediately started up again. Most of the students were curious about the Headmistress' earlier comment about the first years. Harry started at the Headmistress for a moment more before finally sighing and turning his attention back onto his friends, who were whispering among themselves.

Five minutes later found Harry and his friends walking down the halls of the dorm building, approaching their rooms. Harry stepped up to his door and then called over his shoulder to the group behind him.

"Can you all come here? I need to key you all in."

The group blinked collectively, but walked over anyway. "Key us in?" Ryan asked curiously.

"Yes," Harry replied absently as he reached out to his door with his magic, "So that you can get into my room."

Harry looked up then, and waved Ryan over. The confused werewolf stepped up next to him.

"Place your hand on the door handle," Harry instructed. Surprisingly—to Harry—Ryan immediately did so without an ounce of hesitation. Harry paused for a moment to look at Ryan, before turning his attention back onto the door and quickly proceeding to copy Ryan's magical signature and imprint it onto the door handle. Once it was done Harry nodded and looked back to Ryan.

"Now try to open the door," the mage said. Ryan twisted the door handle and it came straight open. Harry grinned, "Good; it works then."

Ryan matched Harry's grin with one of his own before shutting the door once more and stepping back. Damion stepped up next and Harry repeated the process and him and the other four.

When Harry had finally finished with everyone—and after Zahra's wry comment of him apparently expecting to be murdered in his bed with all the security features that he was putting on his room—he bid everyone goodnight and then stepped into his room.

Harry quickly bypassed the front room and headed straight to his bedroom. Unsurprisingly, it looked as though the sun was only just beginning to set, despite the late hour. Harry knew that it would look like this for the rest of the night, before brightening up the next morning; apparently, in Greenland the sun never set during the summer, due to the tilt of the earth. Of course, this also meant that during the winter the sun would never rise. In fact, in just a few weeks, by the end of August, it would start getting darker and darker.

With a sigh, Harry waved his hand and the blinds drew across the sliding door, blocking out the sun. Then, after getting undressed and mumbling a goodnight to his runespoor, he collapsed into his bed and sunk into blissful sleep.

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A/N: This chapter actually dragged on for a lot longer than I expected. But I needed to get all of the descriptions of the school in. Next will be Harry's classes and then the story will finally start to pick up and we'll get to the actually action. _That_ I'm going to enjoy writing.

Please review!

--S.R.


	10. Chapter 10: The Classes

Title: Shades of Gray: The Schedule  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 6,104  
Story WC: 51,848  
Last Edited: November 17, 2008  
Posted: October 16, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 10  
_The Classes_

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The next morning Harry woke up groggily. He froze for a moment as he sat up bed, wondering where he was; if there was one thing that he hated, it was not knowing his surroundings. He quickly woke up completely though, and then relaxed as he recognized his new room.

From there Harry sped through his daily routine, taking a shower and getting dressed. Finally, he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and then told his serpent that she would have to stay in the room today. They hissed in annoyance at him, but quickly accepted what he was saying and curled up in their glass cage to go back to sleep.

Harry glanced around the room to make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything, his eyes smoothly sliding over the features of the room. He then checked to make sure that the door to his balcony was magically locked before turning on his heel and striding through the Curtain of Mist that separated his bedroom from the front room.

As soon as he stepped through the doorway, Harry abruptly stopped, staring in surprise. Ryan, Zahra, Damion, Senka, and Azrael were all sitting on the various furniture of the room, chatting amicably.

Hearing Harry enter the room, the group looked up and greeted him. Harry just continued to stare.

"Uh..." he began hesitantly, "...What the hell are you all doing here?"

The group shared a look. "Waiting for you, of course," Damion replied after a moment, smirking lightly. Harry stared at them for another moment before shaking his head amusedly and joining them around the table.

"Look," Ryan said excitedly, holding up a sheet of paper, "You've got a couple of classes with me!"

"And with everyone else," Zahra put in with a roll of her eyes. Ryan grinned sheepishly at her and the two proceeded to delve further into their bantering conversation. Damion rolled his eyes at Ryan before reaching over and yanking the paper that the American werewolf had been waving around out his hands. Ryan didn't even notice. Damion then slide the paper across the table toward Harry.

"This is your schedule," he commented. He then leaned back and proceeded to simply watch Harry.

Harry nodded his thanks to Damion and then picked up the paper. The first thing on it was a list of which period he had each class. Below that was a time table of which periods were held what day. Harry quickly scanned over the list of his classes.

_Period 1: Physical Arts - taught by Professor Cordula in room D7  
Period 2: Magical Theory - taught by Professor Brenton in room A34  
Period 3: Transfiguration - taught by Professor Darya in room C41  
Period 4: Magical Control - taught by Professor Ciar in room B12  
Period 5: Magical Creatures - taught by Professor Talbot in room D15  
Period 6: Elemental Manipulation - taught by Professor Daiyu in room B4  
Period 7: Enchantment - taught by Professor Aetius in room C23  
Period 8: Soul Magic - taught by Professor Aglaeca in room B37_

Harry nodded his head absently, remembering the classes that he had signed up for when he had first met the Headmistress Mikhailov. His eyes drifted down toward the timetable that took up the second half of the paper.

From what Harry could tell, he had Physical Arts everyday, first thing in the morning—and that included weekends. The rest of the classes, however, weren't everyday and instead were fairly scattered. Fortunately, the timetable listed the time and length of the classes as well, so Harry could make sense of things a bit easier.

Harry glanced down at the muggle wristwatch on his wrist. It was just 6:00 now, so they could easily go and down and get breakfast before heading out to Physical Arts. Speaking of which...

"How do we know where the classrooms are?" Harry asked the room.

Surprisingly—or not, depending on how you looked at it—it was Senka who replied to him. "The letter in the room number stands for the building that it's in," the dark haired wood elf said, looking up from her own schedule. "A for Alpha, B for Beta, C for Gamma, and D for Delta. The room numbers themselves are posted above the classroom doors in the buildings; you just have to find the one that you're looking for."

Harry nodded in understanding; that made sense to him. "Well," he said after a moment more, "What classes do you have?"

Senka silently handed over her schedule. Harry took it and passed his over as well scanning over the periods that she had.

_Period 1: Physical Arts  
Period 2: Enchantment  
Period 3: Transfiguration  
Period 4: Magical Control  
Period 5: Magical Theory  
Period 6: Herbs and Poisons  
Period 7: Healing  
Period 8: Soul Magic  
_  
Hmm, so they had Physical Arts, Transfiguration, Magical Control, and Soul Magic together. Well, it definitely was good to have someone that he knew in one of his classes, and, by the sound of it, the others were in some of his classes as well.

Harry spent the next couple of minutes exchanging schedules with everyone else. He found out the he had Physical Arts with everyone; apparently everyone—including the other years—had Physical Arts in the morning.

Harry also found out that with Ryan he had Magical Theory and Magical Creatures; with Zahra he had Magical Theory and Elemental Manipulation; with Damion he shared Transfiguration and Elemental Manipulation; with Azrael he had Magical Control and Enchantment. It seemed that he had at least on of them in everyone single one of his classes.

Once everyone had finished Harry stood up. "Well," he began, "I suppose we should get down to breakfast then..."

The group murmured their agreements and tucked their schedules away. Harry quickly strode over to where his books and supplies were lying on his desk. With a slight wave of his hand, he moved the items into a nearby bag, shrunk the bag, and then placed the bag in his pocket.

Once that was done, Harry followed his friends out the door. He didn't have to lock it this time though, as it was now permanently locked to all except those whom he had keyed into it. That, actually, brought up the question as to how his schedule had wound up in his room. Of course, he was just a student whereas one of the professors—or even the headmistress herself—had probably sent the schedules to all the rooms. Harry was good, but he wasn't _that_ good.

...Not _yet_ anyway.

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It only took a minute to get down to the Crossways. This morning the Crossways were much busy than they had been the night before. That made sense though, considering that all of the students were now housed in the dorm building and heading down to breakfast.

Harry himself strode confidently through the crowds of people heading toward the Banquet Hall. Getting to the same seat that he'd sat at the night before passed without incident, as did ordering and eating the breakfast itself.

However, just before 6:30, many of the students suddenly stood up and left. A quick scan of the room showed that almost all of these students were upper classmen—third and fourth years. It was Damion who, once again, answered his unspoken question.

"The advanced fighting classes start at about 6:30, rather than 7:00," the long haired vampire stated. "All fourth years take the advanced classes, and some third years get in, but only the best second years get in. And even fewer _stay_ in."

The next twenty or so minutes passed smoothly, but before long it was time to head down to their first class. Harry and his friends stood up from their table and started to make their way toward the Crossways again. Harry's schedule had said that the class was held in room D7, which meant that they needed to get to the Delta Building.

"We're lucky," Zahra murmured, looking down at her schedule.

Ryan stared at her. "Huh?" he said blankly. There others were staring at her, confused, as well, so she elaborated.

"All students have Physical Arts first period, so even amongst each year everyone is split up into different classes. We're really lucky that we all managed to get the class together. Granted, there are only three separate classes for each year, but still..."

Next to Zahra, Senka nodded her agreement. "Yes, we are," she murmured quietly while staring straight ahead.

Not a second later the group approached the Crossways. A large sign in the middle proclaimed that the path straight ahead lead to the dorm building, the path they had come from led to the Alpha Building, the two paths that led to the left led to the Beta and Gamma Buildings, and that the single path that led to the right led to the Delta Building. That particular Building was second in size only to the dorm building and had multiple large fields surrounding it.

Harry immediately took the turn toward the Delta Building, along with all the other students. It appeared that Zahra had been right' everyone did have Physical Arts first thing in the morning.

The inside of the Delta Building was just like the Alpha Building, only instead of one main hall, their was multiple smaller ones. Following the numbers on the doors, it only took Harry and his friends a few more minutes to find room D7. By that time, the students around them had thinned out to only a small number of teens navigating through the stone halls.

Harry pushed open the tall wooden door and stepped into a large stone room. Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. The room was almost as large as the Banquet Hall, and the floor was completely covered with mats, making it a huge gym.

Already more than fifty students were gathered in the room, with a few more trickling in behind Harry. Harry and his friends moved to stand against one of the silver stone walls.

A few minutes later the last few students trickled into the large classroom. Just moments after their entrance the door suddenly slammed shut, causing everyone to quickly spin around to face it, surprise on their faces. However, due to their shift of attention, they were all once again surprised when they heard a voice speak up from the other side of the room. Harry himself heard his neck crack as he whipped his head around quickly.

"Welcome to Physical Arts."

Stranding there on the other side of the room was a large man who looked to be around the age of 40 or so. He had short brown hair and amber eyes, which identified him as a werewolf. He was of very large stature, standing nearly 6'4 with large, toned muscles. It was quite obvious that he was a fighter by nature.

The werewolf watched the children before him with narrowed eyes for a moment before striding forward with strong, measured strides. He stopped in the middle of the room and stood with his feet spread and his arms crossed before him.

"I am Professor Bernhard Cordula," he introduced. Harry noted that he had a deep, gruff voice that held a slight German accent. "I will be your Physical Arts instructor for the rest of your stay at Silvermoor, unless you manage to get moved up to one of the advanced classes." The werewolf, Professor Cordula, narrowed his eyes even further as his gaze continued to sweep over the new students. "And believe me when I say that I will be _shocked_ if more than a couple of you manage to move up. Also know that this is _not_ a Physical Education class. If you want to get stronger, faster, or learn some Martial Arts crap, do it on your own time. This class will solely be about learning to master a weapon."

Professor Cordula stared hard at the students for another moment, as if allowing time to let his explanation to sink in. Finally, when he seemed satisfied, he turned on his heel and began to walk back the way he had come, across the room.

"Come," Professor Cordula barked over his shoulder to the wary students. "The locker rooms are this way."

And indeed, as the group moved forward as one, Harry noticed that there were multiple doors along the back wall. Professor Cordula led them all to the large dark blue one in the middle and directed all the boys to enter. He told the girls to go through the gray door that stood to the right of the blue one.

The blue door, it turned out, led into the boys' changing and shower room. There they were each given a small locker—which opened only to their own magical signature, quite similarly to the way that Harry's trunk worked—which held a pair of work out clothes. Once all the boys had changed, they were told to head back out into the main chamber of the classroom. All the girls were already out there in similar dress, waiting.

Professor Cordula waited until everyone had gathered on one side of the room once more before speaking up again.

"Every morning when you enter this classroom," he began, "The first thing you will do is get changed out. Then you will come back out here and wait. Following this we will begin with stretches, sets of sit-ups and push-ups, laps around the room, and then finally we will begin on whatever we'll be doing for the day, most likely katas. Katas, if you don't already know, are a set combination of positions and movements performed as an exercise, and they're how you will be learning to master a weapon. I'll explain more when we actually get to that.

"For the first couple of weeks however, we will be working solely on conditioning. We will not start on any actual learning until I somehow manage to get you pansies into shape." Many of the students looked affronted by this statement, but, of course, no one actually spoke up. Ignoring the teens, Professor Cordula continued on, "So, let's get started. Everyone spread out across the room, turn to face me, and I'll start with teaching you how to stretch properly."

From there the rest of the period flew by. True to his word, Professor Cordula didn't have them do much beyond basic work out and running laps. Despite this however, by the end of the two hours everyone—even Ryan and Azrael, who were two of the most fit students out of all of them—were exhausted and breathing hard.

Fifteen minutes before 9 o'clock Professor Cordula let them all return to the locker rooms, where they took showers and got changed back into their original clothing. Just moments after the last of them finished up, a loud bell suddenly rang through the air startling some of them.

'_Sounds like a muggle school bell,_' Harry reflected as he and the rest of the students began to pour out into the main chamber of the classroom.

Everyone continued to move through the main room, out the door, and into the hallway, which was quite quickly filling up with innumerous students. Seeing this, Harry hung back a bit and his friends came over to him.

"Blake, Ryan, and I have Magical Theory next," Zahra commented brightly.

Immediately, Ryan groaned. "Noooo!" he wailed. "I hate theory!" Everyone stared at him and he sniffled quietly, before a grin suddenly came to his face. "What?" he asked.

The group just shook their heads, chuckling quietly, though Damion rolled his eyes at the werewolf. The group exchanged words for another minute or so before finally exiting the classroom. The crowds had drastically thinned by then, which was a good thing.

Harry, Zahra, and Ryan made there way quickly down the path toward the Alpha building, which was where the class was held. After only a minute they came across a door labeled A34, and entered it.

The classroom that the door led to reminded Harry of Hogwarts a bit. It was an average sized room filled with rows and rows of desks. The wall in the back of the room held a large chalkboard, which the professor's desk was stationed under.

Harry took stock of the room around him for a moment before he and his two friends slid into seats on the left side of the room. There they waited as the room filled with students, until finally almost every seat was taken up.

There really were students from all races, Harry observed from his spot next to the wall. Ryan sat to his right and Zahra on the werewolf's right. He'd noticed this in the Banquet Hall and in his Physical Arts class of course, but now, as he watched students walk through the doorway, he was really able to see each and every one of them.

There were werewolves, vampires, elves, and fayeries of course. Each of them was quite easily distinguishable due to their distinct appearances. The ones with no such features Harry knew were mages. Harry also saw a couple of veela walk into the classroom. This surprised him; veela were magical beings too? Then he remembered how they'd managed to create fire at the Quidditch World Cup, and realized that they had to be. And doubtless, Harry though with a smirk, wizards thought that the fire was just an ability of veela. He'd have to ask Fleur about that if he ever saw her again.

Finally the bell rang, signaling the start of class. Moments after it, one last person walked into the room, closing the door behind them. It was a woman, Harry observed, and a mage most likely. She appeared around the age of 27, which meant that she was the professor.

The woman strode down the center isle toward the back of the room—or front, technically, since all of the desks were facing it. Once she reached it, she turned on her heel so that she was facing the students. As the mage's eyes roamed over her new batch of students, Harry took the time to study her himself.

She was definitely a mage, judging from her bluish-green eyes. Her hair was a pale blonde color—though no where near the white shade that fayeries had—and was held back in a messy bun that had a pair of obsidian ornamental chopsticks going through it. She was slender and tall, standing at nearly 5'9.

Just as Harry finished summing up her appearance, the woman spoke. "I am Professor Abagail Brenton, and I will be your professor for Magical Theory," she said in a strong voice that easily carried throughout the room. She spoke with a New York accent, though Harry didn't recognize it as such, having never been to New York.

Professor Brenton swiftly moved over to her desk and leant against on of its corners. She then picked up a stray pen and began to absently twirl it in her hand. "This class," she continued. "Is one of your core classes for a reason. I know that many of you don't like theory and find it boring..." She paused to give them all a hard stare then. "...But what you will learn in here will have drastic effects on your magical ability. Here you will learn how magic works and why it works the way it does. You will then be able to use what you've learnt here and apply it to the rest of your classes and your general magical performances."

Professor Brenton set her pen down and moved to stand in front of the middle of the chalkboard once more. Harry could easily see that she was quite passionate about her teaching, despite her—comparatively—young age.

"First of all," the mage began, "Can anyone tell me exactly what magic is?" Silence and confused faces answered her, which caused her to grin. "Exactly! No one can, because no one knows, at least not for sure. Magic is an unknown quantity whose existence cannot be explained through normal means. Through centuries, nay, _millenniums_ of study however, we have managed to come to a basic understanding of how magic works and why it causes the reactions that it does.

"Magic is energy, plain and simple. When it is used it affects other matter and energy around it, causing them to change to create a desired effect. Each and every person in this world has a magical core inside them which holds this energy for them to access—and yes, this does include muggles." Suddenly, Professor Brenton waved her hand at the chalkboard behind her, causing a piece of chalk to appear and begin to write quickly on the board. "And this brings us to the first topic that we will be discussing." Professor Brenton gestured at the question that was now written on the board behind her and repeated it aloud: "What is the difference between magical beings, wizards, and muggles?"

The mage looked around at the class and saw them all contemplating the question. "Well?" she asked. "Anyone?"

Finally, an ice elf who sat in one of the front rows raised his hand, and Professor Brenton gestured for him to speak.

"Well," he began in a tone that clearly stated that he thought that the answer was obvious, "We can use magic and they can't. Or at least we can use it a lot better than them." He smirked then, letting everyone know exactly what he thought of wizards.

"But why?" Professor Brenton asked in rebuttal. "Why, if we all have magical cores, can we use magic while muggles can't? Why can we as magical beings use magic to such a higher extent than wizards can? Why?"

The elf's smirk faltered and he obviously had no idea how to answer. Professor Brenton let her gaze sweep the room, asking with her eyes if anyone had an answer. When only silence met her, she grinned once more and then entered what Harry would come to know as her "lecture mode".

"What separates wizards from muggles and us from wizards is simply our access to our magical cores. You see, the way that we access our cores is through what have come to be known as magical pathways. These are pathways in the body that generally run along about the same lines as our veins and are what our magical energy runs through when we pull it out of our cores.

"Muggles have absolutely no magical pathways; no connection to their magical cores. It just sits there inside of them for their whole lives, never really doing anything. Wizards, on the other hand do have magical pathways, though they are very thin, thus causing them to have only a thin connection to their magical cores." Professor Brenton paused and then began to pace in front of the chalkboard, really getting into her explanation. "It's so thin in fact that they very rarely can access their core directly. The magical energy simply can't be forced through such small pathways. It's when they experience extreme emotion that the magic is instinctually forced through the pathways, and even then this usually only happens when the witch or wizard is young. The wizards have come to call this 'accidental magic'.

"In order to substitute for this, wizards came up with the idea of wands. Wands—which contain parts of magical creatures—act like a bridge to their cores, allowing them to wield their magic. However, in order to be able to properly wield this magic, wizards have to use incantations and wand movements to mold their magic to do what they want it to do. This limits their abilities down to certain spells, instead of them just being able to do whatever they want with their raw magic.

"However, we, as magical beings, have no such limitations. We have very wide magical pathways, allowing for a direct connection to our magical cores. In having this, we're able to directly call on our raw magical energy and wield more of it with much more accuracy and precision." Professor Brenton paused her pacing then and turned to smile brightly at the class. "So," she continued. "To sum it up, we all have cores, but muggles have no connection to that core. Wizards have only a thin connection and have to use wands to bridge the cap. And finally we, as magical beings, have direct access to our magical cores and thus are able to wield our magic with nearly no limitations." She paused for another moment, to let everything set in. "Are there any questions? They don't have to pertain specifically to what I just said." The class mulled everything over before one student finally raised their hand.

"What about squibs and muggleborns wizards? How do they fit into everything?"

Professor Brenton nodded brightly. "Good question," she commented. "It actually all has to do with genetics. Wizards produce other wizards who are capable of similar magic due to the genetics that they pass on. Muggleborns result from two muggles whose genetics combine to allow the person to have wide enough magical pathways for them to access their magic. Squibs, on the other hand, result from two parents whose genetics combined to create magic pathways that just aren't wide enough to support any type of magic. Unlike muggles these squibs do indeed have magical pathways, they're just not good for anything.

"We'll actually be going into the genetics behind magic a bit more later on, so I'll go a little bit more in depth then."

The students murmured among themselves for a minute, exchanging their thoughts. After a moment however, another student shot out another question: "And how about mages? They're the closest to the rest of the human race except for their magical ability. How does that all work out?"

"Mages," the professor replied, "Are indeed human in every aspect except for their magical capacity. It is because of this that they have a very delicate balance in their genetics which allows them to have the magical ability that they do.

"By basic definition, mages are humans whose genetics combine to create extra wide magical pathways to the point that the mage is able to connect directly to their magical core, making them magical beings. Because of this, mages who mate with mages—or any other magical being for that matter—have offspring that will undoubtedly be a magical being as well. When a mage mates with a wizard, however, there is a 50/50 chance of their child being either a mage or a wizard. If they do turn out to be a wizard they will be a very strong one, quite often prone to 'accidental magic' even as an adult.

"In all of time there have been only a rare couple of cases of it working the other way around, where two wizards produce a mage. In these cases, magical beings are generally able to quickly find the young mage and take them into the world of magical beings, where they can be properly taught."

Professor Brenton continued on for a bit, but Harry didn't even hear her, so caught up in his thoughts he was. This was interesting, he thought. It seemed that most likely he was one of those "rare cases" of a mage born from two wizards. That was, of course, unless one of his parents had actually been a mage all along and had just hid it from the whole world, but Harry highly doubted that that was the case. Finally, Harry drew out of his reverie enough to hear someone asking another question.

"Why is it that having part of a magical creature in a wand allows wizards to access their magic better?"

Professor grinned again before answering. "It's to do with the magic that magical creatures have and the difference between magical creatures and magical beasts. I won't go into it right now—though we will at a later date. Those of you whom are taking the Magical Creatures class that is offered here will probably get a bit of an explanation today though in that class."

The rest of the class continued in similar way, with different students asking questions and Professor Brenton answering them in length, effectively painting a pretty good picture of just how magic worked. By the end of the period, Harry was in a state of slight awe. Why had they never been taught anything like this at Hogwarts? Never mind the fact that wizards probably didn't know any of this theory—this stuff was just amazing! It all made so much sense now. _This_ was why he was able to use magic that he was. _This_ was why he was so different from wizards.

Soon the bell rang once more, signaling the end of the second period. Harry stood up with a fairly blank face, thoughts still running through his head, coming to some own conclusions about his magic. He followed Ryan and Zahra out of the classroom.

Zahra was excitedly babbling about the class, actually pretty interested, while Ryan was groaning and wearing an expression that made it seem that he'd been physically hurt by attending the class.

In that moment, Harry suddenly imagined that it was Hermione and Ron walking before him. All of them were so alike, it really was amazing. But at the same time, they were so different. Unlike Hermione, Zahra was in no way a bookworm; she actually didn't like reading that much. And Ryan, unlike Ron, didn't really have any temper problems. He was actually probably one of the more relaxed and even-tempered people that he knew.

Harry sighed and turned his head away from his friends, feeling just a little bit homesick. He wondered if Ron and Hermione—or anyone else for that matter—knew that he was gone yet. For some reason, he doubted that they would learn that he was missing until the beginning of the school year, if even then. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore just left him at the Dursleys' until the end of summer.

Well, he thought with a smirk, at least that was one good thing about Silvermoor starting earlier than Hogwarts; he was easily able to get out of England without anyone being the wiser.

Before Harry knew it, they were already exiting the classroom among the hoards of students. Harry, Zahra, and Ryan, then headed the short way down to the Banquet Hall, knowing that they had lunch next.

Harry smiled lightly as they sat down at the table they'd eaten at the night before and that morning, and then pulled out his schedule to see just where he needed to go next. _Period 3: Transfiguration - taught by Professor Darya in room C41_, it read. Harry sighed slightly. He just hoped that he managed to make it in time after lunch, considering as the Gamma building was on the other side of the school grounds.

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It was just as Harry was entering the Gamma building that Senka came up next to him.

"Hey," the dark haired elf murmured. Harry nodded in reply and greeted her as well. The two then walked in silence towards the classroom. Harry remembered that he had Transfiguration with both Senka and Damion.

Senka, Harry decided, wasn't like anyone that he knew. She was quiet, yes, but it wasn't a shy sort of quiet; it was more like an "I'll speak when I feel like I have something to say, and not before" sort of quiet. Harry watched her from the corner of his eye, and noticed that she was intensely watching everything around her, her eyes flickering over the faces of people that they passed.

And in that moment, Harry realized that he didn't really know anything about Senka other than the fact that she was half wood elf and half ice elf and came from Colorado in the United States. He knew nothing about her parents, nothing about what she did and didn't like, and not even that much about her personality, considering as she didn't talk all that much. Harry decided that he would try to find out more about the elf; he would probably know her for the next four years, after all, if not longer.

Soon the pair came across a door label C41 and stepped inside. The room, it turned out, was along the similar design of the Magical Theory classroom, with all desks facing a large chalkboard in the back of the room. And again, like the other classroom, the teacher had yet to arrive.

Harry saw some motion from the corner of his eye, and when he turned his head, he saw that Damion was already seated, and was waving the two of them over. The mage and the elf quickly complied and Harry sat to Damion right, and Senka next to him. From there the three chatted quietly until the bell rang.

Almost at the same moment that the bell rang, the professor swept into the room. For some reason, Harry had a feeling that a lot of professors were going to be doing that.

This professor was again a younger woman, though this one appeared to be around 36 or so. She was a werewolf too, Harry knew from her golden eyes. She had short, curly black hair and stood around 5 foot 7 inches. She also had fairly tan skin, leading Harry to wonder if she was from the Middle East or somewhere around there.

The woman strode to the front of the room, where she stood with her arms clasped behind her back and a light smile on her face.

"Welcome," she began, "To Transfiguration. I am Professor Arren Darya, and I will be teaching you the art of transfiguration for the next four years, so I suggest that you don't piss me off." Professor Darya smiled brightly then, her teeth flashing and showing her slightly pointy canine teeth. Harry couldn't help but raise one eyebrow in interest.

Still grinning, Professor Darya continued, "I suspect that most of you have at least some experience with basic transfiguration. Most of you, however, don't know the intricate workings of the art. Here, in this classroom, you will learn how to manipulate objects to your will, changing the very way that they're made. Now, before I go into what we're going to be doing today, I'm going to explain a bit about the basics of Transfiguration.

"The first thing you've got to understand is that magic is energy. You will _never_ be able to tame it, only control it, and bend it to your will, temporarily. I'm not going to go into too much detail over this since you'll learn about it in your Magical Theory class, but you have to understand _why_ you're here. The entire reason why you're attending school is to learn how to control various aspects of your magic. It will take many years for you to build up this control, but by the time you leave you'll be full-fledged magical beings.

"As all of you know, this school issues a warning to parents about its death rate. That rate is not just for this school but for most of the magical world. 30% of you will not survive to graduation not because of fights, which are restricted on campus, but rather because you can't control your magic. I've seen more students than I can count attempt something far beyond their abilities and pay the price for it. Once a werewolf was attempting to transfigure air into water but, because the feat was beyond his control he accidentally transfigured _all_ the air around him, including that which was in his lungs. He drowned."

All of the students winced, which doubtlessly was what the professor had been going for. She smiled grimly, glad that her message had gotten through to them.

"For these very reasons, human transfigurations will not be until your last year of school if any of you attempt it before then, I will kill you myself. Now—" She clapped her hands together suddenly, a bright smile on her face. "—Onto what we will actually be doing here. Today, we're going to start off with something that is _very_ important for your magical performance. In fact, in many ways it will be what will allow you to perform magic on a 'higher level', if you will. Today you're going to be getting your focus."

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A/N: Egh, once again a chapter with a lot of info in it. The whole magical theory thing is very important though, since it basically outlines how magic works in this story. If anyone is confused or didn't understand something, please don't hesitate to ask me about it; I'll be glad to clear things up.

Please note that this chapter and the next one will be the only ones that will actually show what goes on in the classes. After this I'll probably mention things now and again, and maybe show a _couple_ important classes, but most of the plot of the story doesn't actually have to do with the classes, just how Harry improves.

For those you who like Naruto, I have a new story called _Failing Twilight_ up. Actually, both the prologue and the first chapter are up, since the prologue is so short. Please check it out if you're interested and give me feedback!

Please review!

--S.R.


	11. Chapter 11: The Focus

Title: Shades of Gray: The Focus  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 5,607  
Story WC: 57,455  
Last Edited: November 17, 2008  
Posted: October 21, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 11  
_The Focus_

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Harry couldn't help but stare at the professor, completely bewildered. Their foci? What the hell was that? A quick glance to his friends that sat on either side of him showed that they actually _did_ know what she was talking about, especially considering the excited look that lit up even Senka's face.

"Your focus," the dark haired werewolf professor began, "Will be something that will stay with you for your entire life. They will be more important to you than your soul, in a way.

"To be more specific, for those of you who don't know your focus is quite literally exactly as it sounds. It is an object very personal to you that helps your magic to flow better. It's nothing like a wizard's wand," she waved her hand lightly as if waving off the idea, "It's just something that your magic uses as kind of a conduit to make it even more controllable than it already is. Your focus will not be something that you hold. In fact, usually it's a piece of jewelry of some kind, though I've heard a couple of cases of a focus manifesting as a tattoo or the like. Actually, I believe that both Professor Demetrius and Professor Cordula have foci that manifested as tattoos.

"Anyway, today you will be creating your own focus. Do not worry too much about the process—which I will explain in just a minute—as it's really very simple, and your own magic will guide you through it. In fact, it's actually your magic which will unconsciously cause your focus to manifest it the form that best fits you.

"For example, my focus is my bracelet." Professor Darya then held up her arm, showing the whole class the simple, unadorned golden bracelet that rested on her wrist. At first, there didn't seem to be anything special about it, but after a moment Harry realized that he could feel...something...about it. He couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, as it was different from anything that he'd ever felt before, but it was almost a humming vibration.

"So," Professor Darya exclaimed, a bright grin on her face once more, "Let's get started, shall we?"

The werewolf waved her hand at a large box that was sitting next to her desk that Harry hadn't noticed before. Immediately, the box opened up and a bunch of small objects zoomed out of the box. The objects quickly flew around the room, one landing before every student.

When one was dropped in front of Harry, he leaned forward to examine it. It was a small metal object, he noted. It was kind of a round shape, but had a flat bottom that allowed it to rest easily on the desk. Its diameter was about that of a Galleon.

"These are what we will be using to create your foci. They're specially made from a magical metal alloy that is quite easily manipulated by magic. However, once they take on the final form of your focus, they'll be damn near indestructible." The professor paused and blinked, realizing that she'd just sworn in front of her students, before finally just shrugging it off, not really caring.

"To start with, what you're going to do is pick up the metal and cup it in between both of your hands." Professor Darya waited until everyone had complied before continuing. "Now clasp your hands together so that you're holding it firmly, but still fairly loosely." Again she paused. "Good, good, that's right. Now, reach out with your magic and envelope the metal. Don't actually do anything to it; just let your magic hang around it. Wait for a few seconds, and your magic should just take control and do what it needs to do. Don't try to stop it, just let it be."

Harry looked down at his hands—which were currently before him, holding his piece of metal—a bit skeptically, before just shrugging. He called up his magic and wrapped it around the small piece of metal. He waited for a few moments, and nothing happened. Harry felt his stomach start to drop. What if it didn't work for him? What if, just like with the wizards, he was different from normal mages too? What if—

Before Harry's thoughts could go any farther, the metal—and, by extension, his magic—suddenly started to move in his hands. Harry held himself back from yelping aloud and stared at his hands in shock. He was quite tempted to move his hands apart to see exactly what the metal was doing, but knew for some reason that that would be a bad idea. Instead, he just contented himself with focusing on what he could feel his magic doing.

The metal itself seemed to be reshaping itself. The magic that Harry had around it was quickly moving around the metal too, and seemed to almost have a mind of its own.

Harry sat there for nearly five minutes while his focus changed in his hands. Around him, Harry noticed that everyone else finished with changing their foci in no more than thirty seconds. By then end of the third minute, both Damion and Senka were staring at him in surprise, wondering why it was taking so long. As time entered the fifth minute, Professor Darya walked up to his desk, curious as to why it was taking so long.

"Hmm," she murmured as she stared at Harry's hands. "I don't believe that it's ever taken so long for someone's focus to take shape before. This should definitely turn out to be very interesting."

Almost as soon as the werewolf finished her comment, Harry sent felt all of the magic in his hands being sucked into the metal. At the same time, the metal suddenly stopped changing shapes and lay still and cool in his hands. Harry paused for a moment, hesitant, and then slowly opened his hands up to see his new focus.

As it turned out, Harry's focus had manifested itself as a single silver earring. It was fairly simply for the most part, though the pendant part of it held a gleaming crimson stone. Upon seeing the earring, Professor Darya breathed in sharply. Harry looked up at her questioningly, but her eyes were riveted to the stone.

"A...a blood ruby...." she murmured, still shocked. She quickly regained control of herself and looked up at Harry, her face unreadable. She studied him for a moment before a small smile suddenly lit up her face and she laughed quietly. "Very interesting, Mr. Gray, very interesting." And with that she swept away, off to help some other students.

To his left, Damion was chuckling as well. "You really do get more and more fascinating everyday," he commented, amused.

Harry looked between him and Senka, completely confused. "Can someone please fill me in? It's just a stone..."

"It's not just a stone," Senka replied quietly. She was still starring at the earring. "It's a blood ruby." She paused to look up at him, meeting him eye to eye. "You don't seem to understand, Blake, exactly what a blood ruby is. They're very rare and can only be found deep, deep in the ground underneath areas that have been soaked with magic for a very long time. Blake, they take millions of years to form. For your focus to have manifested as one....Well, it's quite literally impossible and I would have never believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself."

Harry blinked in surprise and then looked back at the little earring in his hands. Why couldn't he ever do things normally? Among wizards he'd been different and now, even among mages, he was too. Harry sighed and then froze. Wait, how was he going to wear his focus? He didn't have his ears pierced, and certainly had never considered getting them done.

Fortunately, Senka seemed to recognize his dilemma. "Here," she sighed. She reached across him and the hesitated. "May I?" she asked. Harry nodded and so she then completed her reach and brushed her thumb against the earlobe of Harry's left ear. Harry immediately hissed, feeling a sharp pain in his ear, but the pain left as soon as it had come.

Harry reached up to his left ear, and could feel that there was now a small hole there. He carefully picked up his focus and slipped it on. For some reason, he thought with a light smirk, it almost seemed like his focus was a part of him, like it was just meant to be where it was. Harry chuckled lightly and then turned his attention back to his two friends.

"So, how about you two?" he asked. "What're your foci?"

Senka was the first to reply. She gestured to her neck, showing Harry that she had already slipped her focus on. Hers, Harry saw, had taken the form of a black chocker with a gleaming sapphire embedded into it.

"See," he commented wryly. "I'm not the only one with a stone in their focus."

Senka just rolled her eyes. "Stones aren't that uncommon in foci," she replied. "_Blood rubies_, on the other hand, are incredibly rare to find as it is. I believe there are only a scant hundred in existence. You could probably buy a couple small countries with _that_ stone, though anyone who even considers selling their foci is insane on a level that is currently unimaginable."

Harry blinked, surprised. He was pretty sure that was the most that he'd ever heard her say. He quickly shook it off however and then turned to Damion. The vampire picked up on the unspoken question and gestured to his own focus, which rested on his right bicep. The focus was a strap of leather around his bicep with a pendant imbedded into it. That pendant was basically a gold and black circular symbol with a silver dagger running through it, point down.**(1)**

Harry absently nodded his head as he examined it. It seemed that everyone really did have very different shapes that their foci took. He couldn't help but wonder what shapes his other friends' foci were in...

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It wasn't much of a surprise that Magical control turned out to be the most boring of Harry's classes. All they did was practice different ways of controlling energy. Harry couldn't deny that the class would help drastically though. They'd be taught chemistry and physics in that course as well, which would help their magic.

The teacher was a surprisingly interesting person for the class. He was a Greek professor named Erebus Ciar who only looked like he was in his mid thirties. He had the appearance of a dark elf—that is to say, shoulder length black hair, obsidian eyes, and pointed ears—but Harry had heard rumors that the man was actually half dark elf and half vampire. Whether this was just gossip spurned by Professor Ciar's white skin and vampire-like grace or actually truth Harry didn't know.

In fact, all Harry really knew about Professor Ciar was that he was usually calm but had a wicked tempter and that he was a master at mind, soul, and death magic. An interesting and powerful combination to be sure. It made Harry wonder just how old he really was, but he doubted that Ciar was very forthcoming with information like that.

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When Harry stepped into the Magical Creatures classroom he found that Ryan was already there waiting for him. Harry joined him quietly while suppressing a shiver caused by a cool breeze blowing through the room.

The classroom itself was rather large—about twice the size of most of the others—but had no desks or chairs. The back wall was made up of a series of wide arches that led out onto the school grounds. Harry could just barely see the school's stables in the distance.

"Come!" a voice boomed in the distance just as the last few students walked through the door.

Harry turned to face the wall of arches and found a man standing there. He was clearly a fayerie, from his blue skin and short white hair, but he was far different from all the other thin, wispy fayeries that Harry had seen. Instead, thick cords of muscle ran along his arms and shoulders, practically bulging from beneath his skin. He was also surprisingly short, only just past five feet tall.

As one the class shuffled forwards towards the glaring professor who, despite his small stature, seemed to tower over them. Once they'd all stopped the fayerie finally uncrossed his arms and stood tall in front of them.

"I am Bora Talbot, your Magical Creatures professor," he began gruffly. He had a strange accent that Harry couldn't quite place. He'd have said Turkish, but Talbot was a fayerie so that wasn't quite possible. "You will listen to what I say and abide by my every rule or else I _will_ kick you out of this class, no questions asked. This is one class that you will not be able to fool around in. Ever. Here my word is law. If you've got a problem with that, well, that's your problem, not mine."

Professor Talbot began pacing in short, quick strides. His gaze flickered over the students as he did so, never resting on one for more than a few seconds. Harry could already tell that he was definitely a "no frills" sort of person.

The professor continued, "Over the next year we will delve into how to recognize and handle various types of magical creatures. For those of you who want to continue with this line of work there are a few advanced classes that you can also take as upper years. For this class in specific we will be dealing with many types of dangerous and deadly creatures. This is the main reason why I expect you to follow my every instruction; more than just one student has died from carelessness before.

"The first subject that we will be focusing on is the difference between mundane animals, magical beasts, and magical creatures. Like humans, all animals also have a magical core. Mundane animals are mainly the animals known only to muggles and, also like muggles, they have no access to their cores. Their energy will simply sit inside of them until they die. Both magical beasts and creatures, on the other hand, are able to access their magic, even if they rarely ever use it. The main difference between the two is that magical creatures often have better control of that magic and that they have a much higher intelligence—usually a near-human level.

"We'll go into more depth on how magical creatures use their magic at a later date. For today we're going to start out with Re'em."

As he finished his little lecture, Professor Talbot waved his hand in the direction of one of the walls. Instantaneously the air there shimmered slightly before a small fenced in area was revealed, as if it'd been previously covered up by an invisible veil. The animal—a Re'em, apparently—standing in the small stable was unlike anything Harry had seen before. It somewhat resembled an ox, but its fur was a sparkling golden color that instantly drew all eyes to it. Spiral-shaped horns curled on either side of the Re'em's head, much like a ram's.

Ryan let out a low whistle. "Wow," he murmured. "I've never actually seen a Re'em before. The fayeries are usually very protective of them." Upon seeing Harry's confused look he elaborated, "Fayeries are the guardians of the Re'em. They raise and protect them and in return the Re'em allow themselves to be used for transportation. Supposedly Re'em are very fast both over land and in water. They can be a bit too noticeable though, since they cause a cloud of dust to rise in the air when they're moving.

"Re'em actually aren't the only animals that fayeries use for transportation. They've apparently domesticated quite a few magical creatures. It's because they have a special connection with animals, you see. A few rare fayeries even have the ability to communicate with certain species. I suppose that this is why Silvermoor has a fayerie as the professor for this class..."

"Very good, Mr. Henderson," a voice behind them growled. "But why don't you leave the teaching up to me, hmm?"

Both Harry and Ryan jumped in surprise and then quickly spun around. They paled upon finding Professor Talbot standing behind them, his arms crossed over his chest and a glare on his face. Ryan gulped and stuttered out some form of apology that was promptly ignored by Talbot. In fact, the fayerie then swept by them as if nothing had happened and began his lecture on Re'em.

Harry and Ryan shared a relieved glance. They'd been sure that Talbot would eat them alive just then. It just went to show that neither of them really knew their professors very well.

As he stood listening to Professor Talbot Harry's mind eventually began to wander. It wasn't that the class was boring, but rather that his conversation with Ryan had sparked an idea in his mind. He wasn't quite sure if it would work, but there couldn't be any harm in asking.

Harry waited until the end of the class before quietly approaching Talbot. He'd told Ryan to go ahead, that he'd see him at dinner. The werewolf had hesitantly agreed, clearly wondering what Harry was up to.

"Professor Talbot?" Harry enquired once the room has emptied.

The fayerie turned to face him with one eyebrow raised in question. His gaze quickly scanned over him before coming to rest on his eyes with an intensity that almost caused Harry to flinch. When Talbot said nothing and just continued to stare, Harry finally cleared his throat and continued.

"I know of a hippogriff that needs shelter and I was thinking that the Greenland Reserves might be the perfect place for him. Since you're the Magical Creatures professor, I thought I'd ask you..." Harry trailed off unsurely.

Talbot's expression turned thoughtful and his eyes finally left Harry's. "Hmm," the stocky fayerie mused. "A hippogriff...I'll have to speak to the Headmistress about it. I'll get back to you on this."

Harry nodded and then quickly left the classroom. All the while he could still feel Talbot's eyes digging into his back.

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Harry's sixth class of the day was Elemental Manipulation. He'd been looking forward to the class all day because he kept hearing about how interesting and fun it was. Upon first catching sight of the professor however, Harry had to wonder if he should revise his initial opinion.

Chuntao Daiyu, the professor, had to be the strictest looking woman he'd ever laid eyes upon. She was an older Chinese mage with short graying hair and sharp gray eyes. Her mouth was stretched out into a permanent thin line that seemed to radiate displeasure. She was also a diminutive woman who didn't even reach five feet tall and walked around in short, quick strides.

She was, however, the most talented elemental manipulator in the world and when she spoke all of the students hung onto her every word.

"Welcome," Professor Daiyu said once they all had been seated in the large classroom, "To your first day of Elemental Manipulation. For those of you who don't know, this class will be all about learning how to manipulate the natural elements around us: Fire, water, wind, and earth and—to a lesser extent—light, darkness, lightning, ice, air, and metal.

"The first thing that you must understand is that all people are more compatible with certain elements. You will all have one or two elements which you are able to control and others which you have no power over whatsoever. Today you will learn which elements you are able to manipulate and then we will begin on precisely how you control them."

Harry exchanged glances with Zahra and Damion, who sat on either side of him. All three of them were anxious to find out what elements they were compatible with.

"We will begin with fire," Daiyu said. She snapped her fingers and suddenly small flames appeared over each of the desks, floating about four inches in the air. "Manipulate the flame; make it move."

Harry frowned at the small flame, concentrating. If he added a bit of oxygen to the flame then it'd grow and—

"Manipulate the flame," Professor Daiyu voice suddenly barked from directly in front of him. Harry jumped in surprise. "And _only_ the flame." She glared at him for a second, as if she'd known what he been about to do. Harry quickly nodded his agreement and then released a relived sigh when Daiyu moved on. She could be down right _scary_.

The flame flickered almost mockingly at Harry as he returned to staring at it. Manipulate only the flame? So just the energy then...

Manipulating the flame turned out to be harder than Harry expected. Because fire was pure energy it was wild and uncontrollable. Harry had to use all of his will in order to get it in the direction that he wanted it to move, and even then it just seemed to slip through his control. Zahra seemed to be having the same sort of problem, but Damion made controlling the fire seem easy. In a matter of seconds he was able to do almost anything with it.

The second exercise was for water. Professor Daiyu snapped her fingers for a second time and the flames were replaced by small bowls of water.

For Harry, the water turned out to be even more difficult to control. No matter what he did he couldn't control it with his magic any more than he could with his fingers. Had he been allowed to he could have easily used the air outside the water to move the liquid, but with the water alone it was impossible. His only respite was neither Zahra nor Damion were having any more luck than he was.

Next was the wind exercise, in which they were told to create a miniature whirlwind on their desks. For Harry this came surprisingly easy. Perhaps it was because he'd already been manipulating air for many years, or maybe it was because it was the element he was most "compatible" with. Either way he finished the exercise in a few scant seconds.

The final exercise that they were given was for manipulating earth. Professor Daiyu snapped her fingers again and this time a rock appeared on each of the students' desks.

"Break the rock," was all she said. She gave no other instructions beyond that and they all knew better than to ask.

Harry stared blankly at the rock, wondering how to complete this task. Again he was surprised to realize that he knew exactly how to break it had he been using wind; he would have just shoved air into the natural holes in the rock and then expanded it outwards. But using only earth he honestly had no idea, so he decided to do what he did best: Wing it.

The dark haired mage concentrated all of his power onto the rock and channeled it through it, trying to get it to break. To his surprise the rock began to vibrate slightly before finally cracking into several pieces.

Harry blinked down at the rock. "Huh..." he muttered quietly. "Well I guess that works." He glanced over to check on how Zahra was doing and instantly his mouth fell open in shock. "Bloody hell! How'd you manage to get it to do that?!"

Zahra's rock hadn't just cracked like his had: It had turned into a finely powered dust mixed with pebbled of various sizes. Damion leaned around Harry to get a look and found himself similarly gaping.

"Very good, Miss Sadiki," Daiyu croaked from behind them. You're a true earth elemental it'd seem; you're almost on par with some elves."

As the older mage strode away, Harry gave Zahra a questioning look. "...The elves? What'd she mean by that?"

"Ah, well you might have noticed that there aren't any elves in this class right?" Zahra asked. Harry glanced around and suddenly realized that she was right; the class was made up of mages, werewolves, vampires, etc. but no elves. "Well that's because all elves attend a different sort of elemental manipulation class. You see, each race of elf has power over one element—and only that element. But the control that they do have over it far surpasses what most other races are able to accomplish."

Harry considered the Egyptian girl's explanation for a moment. "So then ice elves control ice and fire elves control fire?" he asked.

Zahra nodded. "And wood elves control earth," she agreed. "Though a few have been known to control plants instead, but that's rare."

"Almost as rare as dark elves that can control people's emotions," Damion added. "Most dark elves can just manipulate darkness and shadows, but for whatever reason there's a few whose power instead extends to the darkness in people's souls."

Harry shuddered lightly. Dark elves that could control what emotion someone was feeling? Now _that_ was a scary thought. If there was one thing that should not be tread upon it was the soul, but it seemed that magic crossed that line without a single ounce of hesitation.

By the end of the Elemental Manipulation class all of the students had figured out which of the elements was the one they'd be most compatible with. Harry's was without a doubt air, Damion's was fire, and Zahra's was earth.

Professor Daiyu told them that starting in the next class they'd be receiving instruction specific to their own element. They'd learn the basics in how to control all the other elements too, but would be focusing on their main one for the time being.

"I can't wait for the next class!" Zahra babbled excitedly as they left the classroom once the bell had rung. "Eventually I'll be able to crush people under thousands of pounds of rock or turn the ground beneath to quicksand and bury them alive or—"

Harry chuckled and turned away from the violently enthusiastic girl to speak to Damion. Caught up in her excitement as she was, Zahra didn't notice.

"How about you? What are you looking forward to?"

Damion absently ran a hand through his bangs. The rest of his hair was tied back in a waist length braid, as always. "Well, at the moment I'm interested to learn how to form fire from nothing. Professor Daiyu mentioned something about using raw energy and friction..." The rest of Damion's sentence turned inaudible as the vampire began to mumble, lost in thought. Harry chuckled once more and left both of his friends to their musings.

For his part, Harry was also quite eager for their next class. He'd learnt throughout his life that the air around them could be used for so much, and so to actually be taught the specific ways to control air would doubtlessly only enhance his control. He definitely looked forward to learning how to use wind as a weapon too.

Eventually Harry waved goodbye to Zahra and Damion and then sped through the school towards his next class, Enchantment. No sooner had he stepped into the Gamma Building when he—almost literally—ran into Azrael. The crimson eyed vampire gave him a calm nod in greeting and then the two of them headed into the class.

For once, Harry found that the professor was already in the class, waiting for the students. He was sitting calmly in a chair in the front of the class, his legs propped up on the wide desk in front of him. Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow; considering his body language and messy clothing, this professor had to be one of the most relaxed men he'd ever seen

Surprisingly the professor was an Italian vampire. He had fair hair that flew every which way and couldn't seem to lie flat on his head and eyes so pale that they almost seemed silver. His clothing consisted of a pair of muggle jeans and a button up shirt that was crumpled and missing the first two buttons. Harry doubted that he'd ever worn a tie.

"Afternoon everyone!" the vampire greeted brightly once everyone was seated. A wide grin stretched across his face, making him very handsome for someone who looked as if he'd spent his entire life out of the sun. "Welcome to your first Enchantment class! If you just suddenly had an epiphany and realized that you're in the wrong class, please leave now and scurry along to find the place you're supposed to be in. No? No one? Alright then, let's get started!

"If you hadn't already figured it out, I am Gaea Aetius, the head Enchantment professor at this Academy. I teach the advanced class and you little newbies, so that I have a chance to get my hands dirty with all sorts of students. And before anyone points it out, yes I do realize that with my fair hair, pale eyes, and white skin that I look rather washed out, but guess what: I don't care! If you've really got that much of a problem with it, take it up with my parents for being vampires and thus giving me the inability to get any sort of a tan.

"_Anyway_, we're going to be covering a lot of different topics this year in Enchantment. Today we'll go over some of the basics..."

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Harry heaved a sigh as he plopped down into one of the chairs in the Soul Magic classroom. He'd had an interesting day, but it'd also been very long. He was glad that it was almost over.

Next to him Senka smiled slightly. "Hard class last period?"

"No, just a long day. My last professor, Professor Aetius, was actually pretty cool."

"Ah, that's right, you just came from Enchantment. I have Professor Theos for that class."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he could the professor swept into the room. All the students fell silent as they waited eagerly for their first Soul Magic class to start.

"I am Adhamh Aglaeca, your Soul Magic instructor," the professor began. He was an older fayerie with wispy white hair and dark eyes. He wore a black cloak that swept around him like living shadows. "There will be no tomfoolery in this class. You will pay attention or you will leave, it's as simple as that. Now, to begin, let me ask if any of you know precisely what Soul Magic is. No? Then listen well.

"Soul Magic is, quite simply, the art of the soul. And by soul I do not mean that you will be manipulating your soul—never that. The soul itself is one of the realms that magic never touches, for it is what makes us who we are. No, by soul I am referring to your magical essence, your magical core. In this class you will learn the basics of how to control your magical core for rituals, divining, and mind magic. If you choose to continue the path of Soul Magic, then in more advanced class we shall delve into how to use raw energy from your core in bulk.

"Today, however, we shall be starting with simply meditation. Meditation will teach you how to regulate your energy and once that's done we'll be able to explore more about what Soul Magic can accomplish. Everyone please come and sit on the mats..."

The second half of the room was devoid of desks and instead was covered completely by mats. When he'd first come into the classroom Harry had wondered why the setup was the way it was, but now he understood. He and Senka shared a glance before getting up with everyone else and moving to sit on the mats.

Once everyone was seated Professor Aglaeca stood facing them. He lectured on the proper way to meditate and then started them off with a few simple exercises that involved a lot of silence and breathing.

As they meditated Professor Aglaeca walked among them, instructing them in soft tones. Eventually he reached Harry. The fayerie crouched down in front of the young mage and studied him with a frown. Harry kept his eyes closed as he was supposed to, hoping that Aglaeca would just move on. Unfortunately, he didn't.

"Not quite, boy," the professor murmured. As he spoke he reached out to tap Harry's forehead, as if to make a point. "Try concentrating more on—"

Abruptly Aglaeca cut himself off with a strangled gasp. He lost his balance in his surprise and fell backwards where he sat, staring at Harry in shock. The young mage opened his eyes, surprised and confused, as were most of the other students.

"Out!" Professor Aglaeca suddenly howled. He scrambled to his feet. "Out of this classroom now!"

Harry gaped at the fayerie. "Professor? What did I—?"

But Aglaeca wasn't listening. He quickly scribbled something out on a piece of paper and then shoved it into Harry's hands without actually touching him. His face was neither angry nor afraid, but instead somewhat haggard. Harry wasn't quite sure what to make it.

"Out!" Professor Aglaeca repeated. "Now!" Under the shocked gazes of the other students he then quickly ushered Harry out of the room.

"But sir—"

The classroom door slammed in Harry's face, leaving him staring blankly at the grains of the wood.

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**(1)** - A link to the picture of the symbol in Damion's focus can be found here: photobucket(DOT)com/albums/nn35/Shadow_Rebirth/DamionsPendant(DOT)jpg

A/N: Argh, the number of characters is starting to get a bit out of hand. Most of them won't really be mentioned again, and thus are inconsequential, but there are a couple who will become major characters. I might eventually put up a list of bios, but I'm not sure at this point...

I think that Aetius just turned out to be one of my favorite characters. I had actually originally planned for him to be completely different than he is, but as I wrote that's just how he turned out. That's actually one thing that I really love about this story: While I've got everything for it planned out, a lot of the little details seem to be writing themselves as I go along. In my opinion, those are the best sort of stories; the ones that just fall into place on their own.

And yes, Buckbeak will be in this story! Why? Because there's so much that can be done with him and he's _never_ used in anything, either fanfiction or canon (seriously, he just kind of disappears after the fifth book). Am I the only one that notices that a giant, flying monster with deadly talons and a sharp beak that's highly loyal to Harry practically screams "plot device"?

And finally, I hope that the whole "dark elves that can control emotion" thing wasn't too confusing. For those of you who've read _Twilight_, think of how Jasper can control the mood of the room. For those of you who haven't, they're basically able to control the emotion that a person is feeling at any given time (ex, make them feel calm when they're angry or really sad over nothing in particular). Kind of like a genetic anomaly, they're very rare though; only one or two every few generations.

Please review!

--S.R.


	12. Chapter 12: The Darkness

Title: Shades of Gray: The Darkness  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 3,521  
Story WC: 60,976  
First Written: September 19, 2008  
Last Edited: November 17, 2008  
Posted: October 4, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. It was too bad it also meant that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort was going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 12  
_The Darkness_

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Harry stared blankly at the wooden door not two inches from his nose. Slowly he looked down at the crumbled piece of paper that Professor Aglaeca had shoved at him. _Professor Ciar,_ it read, _Room B18._ Below that was a short message written in some language that he didn't recognize.

Harry released a sigh and then began to walk down the hall to room 18. Thank Merlin he was already in the Beta Building. He strode quietly down the hall, checking the doors as he went until he finally found room B18.

Harry hesitantly knocked on the door to the office. A muffled reply came through the door, inviting him in, and Harry cautiously entered. The inside of the office was sparsely decorated with furniture and rugs. A large black desk covered in paper sat in the back of the room.

To Harry's surprise Professor Aetius was lying upside down on one of the couches. His legs were sluing over the armrest and the back while his head hung a few inches from the floor, causing blonde hair to pool on the floor beneath him. Professor Ciar was nowhere to be seen.

Aetius blinked, surprised at the sight of a student, but didn't get up. "Eh? Weren't you just in my class?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Er, yeah, I was," he replied. "...Is Professor Ciar here?"

"Oh, sure," he replied before raising his voice. "Hey, Eru, get your ass out here! A student's looking for ya!"

There was a moment's paused and then a door in the back of the office opened. Ciar walked through it, glancing through a stack of papers in his hands. He had pale skin, shoulder length black hair, and a tall frame that seemed to tower above them. Ciar stopped at his desk to put down the papers. He finally looked up at Harry while leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes?"

Harry silently stepped forward and handed the noted he'd been given to Ciar. The whole way he could feel Aetius' curious gaze on him, digging into his back.

Ciar quickly read over the note. Harry noticed with no small amount of trepidation that the dark elf's eyes narrowed about half way through and a frown had settled onto his face. Finally Ciar set the note down and dropped heavily into his chair.

"Have a seat, Mr. Gray."

Harry tentatively sat in the chair across from Ciar's desk. He glanced back at Aetius, only to find that the other professor was no longer there. He shivered slightly before meeting Ciar's gaze once more. The professor steeped his fingers and studied Harry for several long minutes before finally speaking again. During this time Harry couldn't help but fidget, his mind whirling with all of the things that the note might have said.

"Professor Aglaeca has refused to teach you," Ciar told him bluntly. Harry's mouth dropped open in shock.

"But why?!"

Ciar paused, considering how to word his explanation. "You must understand," he began, "That fayeries are very...pure beings. They are the protectors of life. And apparently your magical pathways are soaked with death magic. Because his senses and instincts would be going haywire, it would be difficult for him to be in the same room as you, let alone teach you."

For a minute Harry could do little more than gape at Ciar. Death magic? There was _death magic_ in his magical pathways?

"Aglaeca sent you to me because I am Silvermoor's Death Magic professor," Ciar continued. "Doubtless he expected that I'd be able to either do something or take over your teaching..."

"Take over my teaching?"

"Mmm..." Ciar mused. His eyes drifted thoughtfully over to a large window set into the back wall of the office. Lush green trees of the Greenland Magical Reserve could be seen through it. "That could potentially work..." His eyes snapped back to Harry, all of his attention focused once more. "You, quite clearly, cannot be taught by Adhamh, and nor are there any other Soul Masters in this school who will have the time to teach. And you _must_ be taught, lest the death magic in your pathways leaks out into the rest of your body. Honestly, it's rather surprising that it hasn't already. Though...I suppose it's possible that your body has adapted to the energy. We shall have to see."

At that moment a clear bell echoed through the hallways. As intent on Ciar's words as he'd been, Harry jumped in surprise at the sound.

"...Go," the dark elf said softly. "Return here to my office tomorrow instead of Aglaeca's class and we will speak further."

Harry nodded and quickly scrambled up from his seat. In a few short strides he was out of the office. He paused to lean against the wall and take a deep, steadying breath. It wasn't that he was afraid of Ciar or anything, but the man was somewhat unnerving.

Harry took one last glance at the door to Ciar's office and then hurried towards the Banquet Hall for dinner.

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The second Harry sat down at what had become his and his friend's table, all of their eyes turned to him. "What happened?" Ryan asked eagerly. "Senka told us that you got kicked out of your Soul Magic class."

Harry paused, considering what to tell them. He may consider them to be his friends, but he'd only known them for a few days and this wasn't something he was interested in sharing with them. Not yet any way.

"There was a...complication," he said finally. "I'm working it out with another professor."

His friends frowned and exchanged curious glances with each other. They seemed to sense that the topic was closed though and asked no further questions. Fortunately, they were saved from an awkward silence by a sudden outburst from Zahra.

"What the hell is that?!"

Harry glanced up from his menu surprised. He followed Zahra's outstretched, pointing hand to small creature that was sitting on Senka's shoulder and instantly saw what the mage had meant.

The creature was quite unlike anything that Harry had seen before. Its body was small and round—about the size of an orange—and seemed to be made entirely of twigs and leaves. Round, bulbous eyes peered curiously at all of them and thin, stick-like arms grasped tightly onto Senka's shoulders.

Senka glanced down at the creature almost lazily. "Oh, that?" she replied. "That's Bobb, my familiar. He's a bowtruckle."

Next to Senka, Azrael's head was titled to the side while he studied the bowtruckle curiously. "A tree guardian," the vampire murmured. "Curious..."

Senka and Azrael shared strange, knowing smiles that confused the rest of them. Even Damion, Azrael's cousin, was stumped if the odd look that he was shooting Azrael was anything to go by. Harry frowned, wondering if he'd missed something or if there was just something about bowtruckles that he didn't know.

Finally he just sighed and reburied his head in the dinner menu. Oh well, it wasn't important. At least not in the face of the other problems he was facing. No matter how you put it, having death magic inside your body just didn't sound like a good thing...

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The second day of term passed in much the same manner as the first, with only a few interesting variations. By the time Harry's last class of the day came around, he found himself standing in front of the door to Ciar's office, his hand posed to knock.

"Gray!" a voice suddenly called, interrupting him.

Harry only just started to turn towards the speaker when a heavy arm settled over his shoulders. He staggered under the sudden weight and looked up to find Professor Aetius grinning down at him. With his free hand, Aetius opened Ciar's door and ushered Harry in.

"Well come on," the blonde vampire said cheerfully. "No use standing around out here, waiting around, ne?"

Ciar, who'd been sitting behind his desk, working, glanced up at their entrance. As Harry was pushed into the seat across from the desk, Ciar scowled at Aetius.

"Don't you have anything better to do with your off time than bother me, Gaea?" he growled.

Aetius shrugged, still grinning. "Nope! Don't be such a stick in the mud, Eru. Besides, this is _interesting!"_

Harry gulped as the two instigated a staring contest over his head, one glaring and one smiling. They seemed to have completely forgotten his presence. Finally Ciar sighed and flicked his hand dismissively.

"Whatever. Just stay out of the way."

Like a kid who'd been told that he could go to the circus, Aetius let out a whoop of joy. With a running leap, he all but threw himself onto one of Ciar's couches. The dark elf shot him another glare when the furniture creaked ominously.

Sighing in exasperation, Ciar turned his eyes back onto Harry. His gaze turned thoughtful, as if he was studying some great anomaly—which indeed wasn't far from the truth.

"I've spoken to Headmistress Silvia," he told Harry softly. Everything about Ciar seemed to be muted like that, as though his edges had been blurred. It almost made the eyes slide away. As such, Harry almost missed the professor's next comment. "Your situation makes a bit more sense now, Mr. Potter."

Harry froze, his eyes flying wide open with surprise. Then he forced himself to clam down, asking himself why he was worried. It wasn't these people he was hiding from, just the students who might have connections to the wizarding world. And besides, if Ciar knew the whole story he was much more likely to be able to help him.

"You are quite...curious," Ciar mused. He sighed and then straighter up, growing solemn. "The Killing Curse is basically a collection of compressed death magic. Even here in the magical being world it is impossible to survive taking such a hit. We mortals just aren't meant to take such an influx of energy. I might be able to discern what caused you to survive, but I shall have to take a good look at you magical pathways first. Do you mind?"

Harry hesitated and then shook his head. With a barely perceptible nod, Ciar took Harry's hands, placed them palms up, and held loosely onto his wrists. The young mage watched anxiously as Ciar closed his eyes, concentrating.

For a moment nothing happened. Then Harry breathed in sharply as he felt a sudden charge race through his body, starting at his wrists. Goosebumps broke out over his skin and he had to consciously stop himself form pulling away. It wasn't painful sensation, just decidedly peculiar.

The energy hummed through his body for a few more seconds before fading away. A moment later Ciar opened his eyes and then released Harry's wrists. The thoughtful look had returned to his face, but this time there was a frown tugging at his lips as well.

"Interesting," Ciar murmured. "Very interesting..."

"...Sir?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Aetius piped up form the couch. Harry gave a start, having forgotten the vampire's presence. "Don't keep it to yourself, Erebus! We're all dying out of curiosity over here!"

Ciar ignored Aetius' interruption. His eyes were still on Harry, now lingering on the spot where his scar was, hidden beneath an illusion.

"From what I can tell," he began, "The death magic of the Killing Curse had a one-in-a-million chance effect on you. Normally when a person is hit with death magic like that it will quickly burn through their magical pathways before reaching their magical core, instantly killing them.

"When you were hit by the curse however, the death magic was absorbed into your pathways instead of burning them up. Though this means that the magic never reached your magical core—hence why it didn't kill—it caused your pathways to become inflamed and bloated. This forcefully widened your pathways, which is most likely why you became a mage instead of a wizard. Such an occurrence has never happened before, but I suppose it certainly is possible."

"So...Me surviving the Killing Curse was just pure chance and nothing else?" Harry questioned. "The same with me being a mage?" When Ciar nodded he felt a shiver race down his spine. What would have happened had the magic killed him instead? Or if he'd not become a mage? Would he still be stuck in Hogwarts?

"What I don't understand," Ciar continued. "Is why the spell 'rebounded' and hit Voldemort. There is no known way for magic of any sort to cause such a reaction. It leaves me at a loss..."

"While you're on that subject, you've also got to ask why the wizard went after a _baby_ in the first place," Aetius commented with a snort.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and instantly Ciar's eyes snapped back to him. "You know something." It wasn't a question.

Harry's eyes flickered away from the dark elf's piercing gaze. "...Perhaps," he replied, unwilling to tell him about the prophecy. That was one secret he was _not_ letting out.

Fortunately the two professors did not press the subject, curious though they were. Instead Ciar steered the topic back onto the subject of schooling.

"Well," he began, "Because I'm the only Soul Master that has off this period—"

"Oi! I've got a mastery in Soul Magic too ya know!" Aetius piped up.

Ciar ignored him. "—You'll be coming here every day for your Soul Magic class. I'm going to work with you to make sure that the death magic has no ill effects as well as teaching you. The way you work with soul magic will doubtless differ from the norm as well."

Behind them, Aetius cackled. "Now _this_ is going to be good."

Harry gulped, more than just a little intimidated. It figured that after less than a day of being at a new school, he was already standing out.

"Oh, Gray," Ciar suddenly said and Harry's glanced back at him. "Headmistress Silvia mentioned something about the Reserve having room for a hippogriff. She said you'd know what she was talking about."

Harry nodded eagerly, though he was surprised to have gotten a response to quickly. Professor Talbot, the Magical Creatures professor, must have relayed his message immediately. And now he'd be able to get Buckbeak out of the horrible house! The only problem left was how to get him to Greenland, but Harry already had an idea for that.

The grin slipped from Harry's face as his thoughts moved onto his new arrangement with Professor Ciar. How was he going to explain this to his friends without giving telling them the truth? The truth was _definitely_ out of the question and not just because he didn't entirely trust them yet. Rather, telling them about the death magic would lead to more questions which could eventually lead to them to figuring out his identity. And _that_ he was going to avoid for as long as possible

When the period finally ended, Harry left with a quick goodbye to the two professors. He almost hoped that Aetius would be there everyday; it distracted Ciar's piercing gaze from him. Not to mention that he was a pretty good source of amusement.

The rest of the evening blurred into a stretch of indistinguishable memories. All of the students were exhausted from the day—enough so that Harry's friends asked him no questions, _thank Merlin—_and Harry had a feeling that things were only going to get harder the further they got into the term. By the time he got back to his rooms, he was ready to collapse.

Before he could go to bed however, there was one last thing that Harry needed to take care of. He took a seat at his desk, pulled out some paper and a pen, and began to write.

_Dear Neville..._

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Dumbledore hummed lightly as he quietly strode down a clean muggle street. His ever-present twinkle shined brightly in his eyes and a mysterious smile rested on his face. To anyone who saw him it was clear that he was in a good mood.

As it was two weeks before the start of Hogwarts' term, Dumbledore had decided that it was time for Harry Potter to be brought to Grimmauld Place for the end of summer. Mrs. Weasley had agreed to do all of the boy's shopping, so all that was needed was to pick the boy up. The headmaster had decided to do that job himself this year, in light of the rocky end of the last term.

Before long Dumbledore came to a stop in front of Privet Drive. It was completely identical to all the other houses on the road, trimmed bushes, white picket fence, and all. No one would ever guess that it was the residence of the Boy-Who-Lived.

When Dumbledore knocked solidly on the door to the house there was, for several long moments, no answer. Then finally the door opened only a crack and the wary visage of Petunia Dursley could be seen peeking from within. Upon seeing him she scowled fiercely and seemed to contemplate slamming the door in his face. She did not, however, no matter how great the temptation must have been for her, and instead after a moment she pulled the door all the way open. She stood by it, silently bidding him entrance while refusing to meet his eyes.

The headmaster cheerfully stepped inside of the Dursely's home. His blue eyes swept across the premises, noting that it looked exactly the same as it did the last time he'd been there, some years ago. Despite this there seemed to be something different hanging the air that gave the older man a moment's pause.

"What do you want?" Petunia snapped the moment the door had closed. She hesitated between the hallway and the living room, torn between playing the good host and snubbing the wizard.

Dumbledore smiled patiently. "I'm just here to pick up Harry," he replied jovially. He either didn't noticed or just chose to ignore Petunia nasty attitude. "Is he in at the moment?"

If possible, Petunia's scowl deepened even further. "No. He's not. He left some days ago."

"Left?" Dumbledore asked sharply. The cheer completely faded from his face, leaving it cold as stone.

Petunia hesitated, suddenly remembering just who it was that she was dealing with. After a moment she gathered her courage, drew herself up to her full height, and stared Dumbledore directly in the face, challenging him. This was _her_ home and she'd be damned if she allowed herself to be scared off in it.

"Yes," she replied firmly. "Left. He got himself emancipated and then up and left. He said he was dropping out of school. We haven't heard from him since and I doubt we ever will again. And there's nothing you can do about it," she added before the headmaster could interrupt. "It was his choice; he even specifically said so."

Dumbledore gaped at Petunia in shock. Emancipated? He'd gotten himself emancipated? Why hadn't he said something?! No one had heard anything about this from him! Surely he would have at least mentioned something to his friends!

"His choice or not, how could you just let him leave?" Dumbledore asked with a frown. "He's your nephew. And what about your debt to your sister?"

Petunia drew herself up even further. "We never wanted him in this house!" she hissed. "For the first time, my life was going perfect you know! I was married to a loving husband and had a darling little boy of my own. Then I wake up one morning and find that my sister had gotten herself killed and that there was a baby on my doorstep. I never wanted to take of him, but I did for all these years! I allowed his freakishness into my home even though my first instinct was to just leave him there. Don't speak to me about debts; I've already repaid mine threefold!"

Dumbledore drew back, shocked by the woman's rage and animosity. He stared sadly at her, seeing clearly how jealousy, hate, and fear, had warped her over the years. It was like a parasite of the heart, growing and tainting everything around it until all that was left was a pale, broken reflection of what had once been.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way, especially towards a family member," he said quietly. His face was drawn with sorrow and disappointment. Petunia jerked back as he'd physically slapped her. "I had hoped that you would eventually be able to get over your hate so that you could care for your orphaned nephew, but I can see now that that has not been the case. It's a pity; you could have been such a strong woman."

Petunia openly gaped at him, thoroughly shocked and taken aback by his words. Dumbledore spun on his heel, his robes swirling around his heels, and headed towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle to glance back at her. "Farewell, Mrs. Dursley."

And then he was gone.

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A/N: Told ya the canon characters would show up soon. There'll be more in the next chapter too. As I've mentioned before, they _will_ be a main part of the story.

It was amusing how everyone immediately assumed that it must have been a Horcrux that Aglaeca felt. As you can see, that is far from the case...Well, kind of. _Anyway_, it couldn't have really been the soul piece that Aglaeca felt because, scar or not, the Horcux isn't actually in Harry's forehead: it's attached to his soul. No, it was Harry's magic that he was sensing.

I will indeed be using the Horcrux idea in this story though because, honestly, I think that it's an incredibly inventive idea that has a lot of possibilities attacked to it. The problem is that Rowling waited until the middle of the sixth book to even mention them, which made the idea seem really rushed and just threw everything out of whack.

--S.R.


	13. Chapter 13: The Letters

Title: Shades of Gray: The Letters  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 4,624  
Story WC: 65,600  
First Written: October 4, 2008  
Last Edited: November 17, 2008  
Posted: October 31, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. Unfortunately, it also means that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort is going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 13  
_The Letters_

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Remus Lupin stared deeply into his mug of coffee, idly stirring it with a spoon. Despite the intensity of his gaze, his eyes were staring through the mug, clearly lost in thought. The crinkle in his brow and the unconscious bouncing of his leg were the only indications of his agitation.

That morning Dumbledore had left to go collect Harry from the Dursleys. He hadn't returned. Now everyone else was milling around in the dining room, preparing for the Order meeting that night and Dumbledore still hadn't come back. Thus Remus found himself in the kitchen, alone, waiting for any sign of the Headmaster's return.

As such, when the kitchen door did finally open, Remus was up out of his seat in an instant. The very second that Dumbledore stepped into the room, the werewolf was hovering anxiously next to him. When it became apparent that Harry was not with him his concern only increased.

"What happened?" he all but demanded.

Dumbledore looked older than Remus had ever seen him. The lines on his face were deep and prominent, displaying the weariness that the older wizard felt. With a low sigh—and a wince at the crackling of his joints—Dumbledore lowered himself into a seat at the kitchen table. After a moment his dull blue eyes lifted from his knotted hands to meet Remus' gaze.

"He's gone."

Remus froze, instantly understanding what Dumbledore was saying, even if his mind couldn't quite comprehend it yet. Even though his mind had harbored such dreads that day, it was still a bit much to take in.

Dumbledore's gaze dropped back to the table and his shoulder slumped as if bearing some great weight. "He left his relatives of his own free will," he continued, "Just a couple of days ago, apparently. I've spent the rest of the day looking for any sign of him, but no one has seen him since he left Hogwarts and all of my locating spells have been blocked. I have sent an owl with a tracking spell after him, but I fear that there is little else that I can do now..."

Remus flexed his hands convulsively. His breath seemed to be caught in his lungs, as if his chest had been frozen. He'd already lost everyone close to him and now...

"You...you don't think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—" His throat seemed to close in on itself, not allowing him to finish his sentence.

The aging Headmaster solemnly considered the question. "No," he said finally. "I do not believe so; this does not feel like his work. But we do not know anything yet, so we can't make any assumptions."

"By Harry wouldn't just leave, without saying anything—!"

Dumbledore cut Remus off with a sad shake of his head. "As I said, we do not know anything yet. For now, we can only wait." He let out a tired sigh. "Come, we must pass this news, dreadful though it may be, onto the rest of the Order before the night grows old."

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Neville Longbottom sat in his room in the Longbottom Manor, reading a thick tome. A crackling fire was lit in the fireplace next to him, spreading warmth through the room. He was enjoying a simple evening at the end of his summer.

Or at least he had been until an envelope had suddenly appeared with a quiet pop on his desk.

In an instant Neville's wand was out and trained on the seemingly innocent piece of paper. When nothing else happened he cautiously began to approach it, never allowing his wand to waver. He poked it gently with the tip of his wand and quickly leapt back, but still nothing happened. The boy finally began to lower his wand, assuming—and hoping, if he was to tell the truth—that the wards wouldn't have let anything harmful through.

Not that he knew how the letter had gotten there in the first place.

Neville opened the letter and swift scanned through the words written there, his eyebrows steadily rising as he did so. When he came to the end of the letter, a smirk that his peers would call decidedly uncharacteristic settled onto his face.

With a few quick strides Neville was standing before his fireplace. He took a pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the mantelpiece and tossed it into the flames. With a roar the fire turned green and leapt up, as if someone had breathed life into it.

"Nott Manor," Neville said clearly as he stuck his head into the flames.

He waited for a moment and the view of another room swam into view. Another teen glanced up in surprise from his spot on a large sofa. Neville grinned widely in greeting.

"Hey Theo, you'll never guess what just happened..."

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By the end of his first week of school, Harry was justifiably exhausted. Silvermoor pushed its students far harder than Hogwarts ever had and drawing upon and controlling magic was much more tiring than most people would expect. The weekend was a welcome respite from the work.

On Saturday morning Harry only managed to pull himself out of bed at around ten in the morning. Or at least he assumed that was the time; the odd lighting caused by the sun's angle made it difficult to interpret the time. Surprisingly, there was no one waiting for him to get up. Harry was so accustomed to finding various people sitting on his couches and chairs at odd hours of the day that it actually threw him off balance for a moment.

After grabbing something to eat from the buffet in the Banquet Hall he began to meander though the Cross Ways, unsure of how to spend the day. He was just considering snooping through Silvermoor's expansive library when he caught sight of Ryan ahead of him.

The werewolf was amiably conversing with several other students—werewolves, it looked like, though there were a few mages and elves with them. Ryan glanced up at Harry's approach and flashed the teen a smile. He quickly said something to the werewolf next to him before turning away and striding quickly up to Harry.

"Hey Blake!" Ryan greeted jubilantly. "It's nearly the full moon, so we're going to take a trip out into the Reserve. Want to come?"

"Full moon? What does that have to do with anything?"

Ryan was practically bouncing in place. "We 'wolves always get a bit antsy around this time 'cause the moon boosts our magic," he said. "So a bunch of us are going out for the day where we can change into our other forms for a time."

Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. He cast his mind back to the book he'd read, Branches of Magic. It'd said that, unlike bitten werewolves, born werewolves didn't have some half-man, half-wolf form. Instead they could change into a full wolf form at will.

After a moment of contemplation, Harry finally shrugged. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"

Ryan's grin widened and he pivoted back around to the big group. "Alright, is everyone ready then?" he called out as he strode toward them.

The wild wind sifted through Harry's hair as he walked with the others through Greenland's Magical Creature Reserve. He was momentarily thankful that his short pony tail was tied at the nape of his neck, as always. It wasn't cold out yet since it was still summer, but the wind held a biting northern chill.

The group stopped about a mile into the forest, next to a large rock outcropping. There, most of the group was told to stand back while the werewolves changed.

Harry watched with unabashed curiosity as the werewolves, Ryan among them, braced themselves. One by one they each suddenly began to shift. Bones crunched, muscles stretched, fur sprouted, teeth lengthened, and clothes faded. In less than a minute a dozen fully transformed wolves stood in place of the werewolves, stretching casually.

The wolf form of a true werewolf actually only had a passing resemblance to a real wolf. They were massive both in bulk and height, the tallest of them standing as high as Harry's chest. They were lean, but rippling with taunt muscle and their deadly teeth gleamed with saliva. No wonder muggle legends about werewolves spoke about them with fear, Harry noticed with a hint of awe.

Ryan turned out to be a light brown wolf with gleaming pale green eyes. A thick, fluffy tail waved enthusiastically behind him and pair of bony horns protruded from his forehead, giving him the appearance of some sort of a demon wolf**(1)**. Harry offhandedly noticed that a few of the other werewolves also had horns or other strange attachments. The young mage also observed that Ryan's hoops earrings had stayed with him through the transformation, even though his clothes had not.

Ryan bounded over to Harry, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. It made his wolf form look less like a vicious killer and more like some deranged puppy. Harry chuckled in amusement and threaded his hand though the werewolf's shaggy fur that was so much like the teen's hair. It seemed that some things didn't change, no matter the form.

"It's too bad he can't talk yet," Senka's soft voice spoke. Harry's shoulders tensed, but he'd been around the elf enough to not be so surprised by her sudden appearances anymore. His eyes slid around to find that Senka was standing next to him, looking for all the world as if she'd always been there. That was the thing about Senka: she could easily blend into the background until she wanted to be known. It made her dangerous.

"Yet?" he asked.

Senka's gaze didn't stray from Ryan, who was now grinning a wolfish grin. "Yes. Werewolves eventually are able to transfigure their voice boxes so that they can speak. But of course, that's only after we learn self-transfiguration in our fourth year." She tapped her lower lip thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose that some 'wolves project their thoughts instead, but we only learn that in neuro-magic class, which is only available to upperclassmen, since even the slightest mistake can be deadly."

Harry frowned thoughtfully. Neuro-magic? He hadn't heard of that branch before. He mentally filed the term away to ask Ciar about later.

"Hey, Senka," Harry said suddenly. The elf titled her head to the side, indicating her attention. "You know how elves can only control one element? Well I was, uh, wondering since you're half wood elf and half ice elf...Which element do you control?"

Senka's eyes finally slid around to meet Harry's. The mage resisted the sudden urge to take a step back while her eyes bored into him. Just when he was really starting to get nervous however, she smiled and her eyes flickered away once more.

"When an elf has parents from two races, the element they control is all up to genetics, just like gender is," she explained. "I can control earth to a small degree, but my main element is ice."

Harry nodded and gulped silently, turning his attention back to the group. Sometimes Senka could be _too_ intense and then she'd change abruptly and suddenly seem meek. The unpredictability made Harry's head reel.

The werewolves took off with a loping gait, leaving everyone else to follow at a more sedate pace. They doubled back every now and then so that they stayed with the group but were still able to run to their hearts' content. Harry noticed that Ryan was at the front of the group, leading them, even though he wasn't the largest of the wolves.

The group toured around some parts of the Reserve, passing through various environments. Eventually they stopped at the base of a long, snowy mountain range. Though they were about the same height as the mountains Harry had seen in Scotland, they were far more rocky and treacherous.

As they stopped at the edge of a narrow valley, the werewolves suddenly came bounding out of the trees ahead to join them. They skidded to a stop around the students and Harry soon saw why: They were being chased by a short, thick bearded dwarf who was shaking his fist at them as he ran. Fortunately, he looked more exasperated than angry.

"Go back, you foolish werewolves!" the dwarf growled as he approached. "Go back! You students aren't allowed in the Petur Mountains. This is dwarves land!"

In a few seconds Ryan had shifted back to his humanoid form. "Yes sir," he was saying to the dwarf. "Of course sir."

The squat dwarf grumbled a bit, but seemed to accept Ryan's words. "Well get going," he said at last. "It'll take a while for you kids to get back to the school anyway and I doubt that any of you know how to Apparate or even Shift." Without another word he turned around and disappeared back into the foliage.

As soon as the dwarf had left, Ryan's shoulders slumped and he let out an annoyed sigh. "...He's right though," the teen said after a moment. "We _should_ be getting back. Does anyone have a watch?" When the students simply glanced at each other, Ryan rolled his eyes. "Alright, no watch. Does anyone have an ETC then?"

"I do," one of the mages said. "Hold on and I'll check the time."

The girl pushed her hair back, revealing a small metal circle about the size of a dime on the skin directly behind her ear. She pressed a finger to it and held it there for several seconds before removing her finger again and announcing the time.

Harry glanced back at Senka. "...Am I missing something?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

A slight smile flickered across Senka's face. "ETC stands for Electro-Telepathic Connecter," she told him. "It's a magical device that allows for an automatic telepathic connection. Kind of like a muggle phone, in a way."

"...Telepathic connection?" Harry questioned, still staring at her.

Senka sighed. "You remember how I mention earlier that in the neuro-magic course we learn how to project our thoughts? Well that's basically what telepathy is. It's sending electrical signals that the Wernicke's area**(2)** in our brain can convert to words. Normally it takes a lot of control and practice to be able to project your thoughts like this, but the ETC is an ingenious device that, when activated, allows for an automatic connection to another person with an ETC, just by concentrating on them. Like I said, it's like a phone, except ETCs have been around for about four centuries."

Harry blinked a couple of times as he digested this, surprised. At first he was taken aback at the existence of such a device, but after a moment of thinking it over, he realized that it made sense. After all, wizards had created the Floo for communication, so why wouldn't magical beings be able to invent a communication device as well?

The sound of Ryan's neck crackling as he titled his head back and forth brought Harry out of his reverie. He glanced over and saw that Ryan was addressing the group once more.

"—should get going," he was saying. "We'll head back by the quickest path, through the plains." Once everyone nodded, Ryan grinned and proceeded to once again shift back into his wolf form. He nodded then, communicating what he couldn't say with words: Let's go.

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"I'm sorry, _what_?"

Ciar sighed in exasperation, but Harry just continued to stare at him, shocked. "I _said_ that you received a letter today," he repeated. "Normally mail would be automatically forwarded to your room, but this one contained a tracking charm so I wanted to give it to you personally."

Harry stiffened in his seat in Ciar's office. He glanced warily at the thick envelope resting oh-so-innocently in the dark elf's hand, as if expecting it to suddenly sprout teeth and leap at him. Ciar rolled his eyes again.

"The charm has been removed, of course," he said gruffly. "The wards around the school saw to that. I just wanted to let you know. In the future any letters will be sent to your room automatically."

"...Thanks," Harry said after a moment. Still cautious, even if irrationally so, he reached out to take the letter. He contemplated opening it there and then for a moment, but Ciar's glare reminded him that they had a soul magic lesson to get to, so with a sigh he tucked it away.

Harry didn't get a chance to even think about the letter again until he reached his rooms that night. There, in the privacy of his bedroom, he pulled the envelope out again and stared at it without really seeing it. Then, with a jolt, he realized exactly what he was seeing.

It was parchment. And the only society that he knew of that was still using parchment was wizards. Harry's eyes narrowed in thought. Surely they couldn't have noticed his absence already...But then again; it was only a week until the start of September so it wasn't too abstract of a concept.

Harry hesitated for only another second before tearing the envelope open.

True to his prediction, the letter turned out to be from Dumbledore. The wizened headmaster was expressing his concerns over Harry's whereabouts and was _politely_ asking that he return to either Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts itself. Harry snorted derisively; fat chance of that.

Harry considered not replying to the letter. He also considered sending a letter back with some sort of a hex on it, to make his displeasure known. But in the end he decided that it'd be best to reply with a simple note saying that he was fine but wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts because he was off training to defeat Voldemort.

It was technically true; it just left out ninety five percent of the story.

A quiet pop accompanied by the appearance of a second envelope startled Harry out of his thoughts. He paused to stare at it for a moment, noticing that his real name was written on it in a very familiar script.

"Huh, so that's what they meant by forwarding my mail."

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One week, almost to the hour, later, Harry Apparated silently in the top floor of Grimmauld Place, into a room he'd been in only a handful of times before. He was taking a great risk by coming here, but the benefits quite outweighed the risks.

For nearly a minute after his arrival, Harry stayed perfectly still while straining his ears for any sort of sound. Only once he was sure that no one had been alerted to his arrival—be it through the wards or something else—did he allow himself to relax. He glanced quietly around the room and soon found himself staring into the piercing orange eyes of Buckbeak the hippogriff.

Calmly, Harry bowed low to Buckbeak. The hippogriff silently studied him for several seconds before he rose to his feet, ignoring the way his claws scrapped against the wooden floor, and returned the bow. Only then did Harry relax and straighten back up.

He slowly approached Buckbeak and threaded his fingers through his stormy gray feathers. Buckbeak leaned into the touch and Harry had to pityingly wonder how much company he got, cooped up here all the time. It only strengthened his resolve to get the hippogriff out of there.

"How'd you like to be able to roam free again, Buckbeak?" Harry murmured softly. Immediately the hippogriff perked up and twisted his head around to stare at Harry, who smiled in reply. "Yes? Well then, let's get out of here."

Harry rested his hands on Buckbeak's flank and began to cover him in a thin film of magic. Buckbeak twitched slightly, unsettled by the energy, but did not try to move. Harry sent him an apologetic glance and then his magic swirled around them and they silently disappeared.

As the floor beneath his feet shifted from wood to stone, Harry took a staggering step backwards, releasing Buckbeak. He'd never transported such a large load before and was surprised to find himself quite disoriented. It was for this very reason that Harry couldn't Apparate Buckbeak to Silvermoor; it was impossible for anyone, even a magical being, to Apparate over long distances, let alone with such a load.

"Mr. Potter," a voice behind him greeted.

Harry turned and nodded politely to Grimsheild, his account manager. He'd seen the goblin less than a half an hour ago, after traveling to England via the goblins' transport disks**(3)** though, so he said nothing. Grimsheild already knew what was going on.

A glance around revealed that the three of them were standing in a large, empty bank vault. It was supposed to be a standard sized one, but without any gold to fill it up it felt like a massive, gaping cave.

There was a screeching reminiscent of a stopping cart outside the vault, prompting Harry to glance over to the open vault door. Sure enough, only moments later a second goblin led Neville Longbottom inside.

"Ha—" Neville faltered, taking in Harry's changed appearance. "...Harry?"

Harry smirked. "Hey, Neville. How was your summer?"

The wizard crossed his arms in front of him, relaxed, and snorted. "Don't be so damn polite. We both know that your not one for pleasantries."

Harry couldn't help it; he laughed. Now _this_ was the Neville he knew. The teen had some serious issues with crowds that caused him to be nervous nearly all the time. When he was around some one that he was comfortable with however, he was like an entirely different person. Like night and day, his confidence shot up completely. It was too bad that his grandmother scared him too much for her to ever see this side of him.

"Of course," Harry agreed warmly. "I've been around some pretty formal people lately though. I guess they've started to rub off on me."

Neville frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah, you mentioned something about training in your letter..." he said, subtly fishing for information.

Harry easily noticed what Neville was doing and smirked at him. Like hell he was going to fall for that. "Where's Theo?" he asked instead.

"I don't know," Neville replied with a shrug. "He'll probably be here soon; you know him, always 'fashionably late'."

The two were still snickering when Theodore Nott finally arrived, less than a minute later. The Slytherin was a thin boy with auburn colored hair and dark eyes. He was indeed the son of a Death Eater, but he disliked both his father and Voldemort's cause for reasons he'd never seen fit to share.

"What?" Theodore asked, his eyes shifting from Harry and Neville and back again. "What'd I miss?"

Harry coughed to cover the last of his amusement. "Nothing, nothing," he said, quickly waving the matter away. "Anyway, this is Buckbeak and, as I mentioned, I've got a new home for him. Problem is, I'm unable to transport him across the ocean..."

"And that's where we come in," Neville finished.

"So you'll help out?"

"Would we be here if we weren't planning on doing so?"

"Point," Harry agreed with a smile. "So, here's the deal: You'd have to fly Buckbeak across the Atlantic, where I'd meet up with you. From there you would have to take an international portkey back to Great Britain. Considering the speeds that Buckbeak can travel at, you'd be back within a few days."

"An international portkey?" Theodore questioned doubtfully. "There's at least a month waiting list for those."

Harry shrugged. "I've...got connections." What he didn't tell them was that he'd gotten it through Grimsheild, who was still standing up against one of the vault walls, smirking. The portkey had been made by magical beings—not even they could Apparate over thousands of miles; it exhausted the body too much—and as such was untraceable to wizards.

Theodore and Neville's gazes locked for a few moments, silently debating. Then, as one, they turned back to Harry and said, "We'll do it."

"But we'll expect compensation, of course," Theodore added after a moment, ever the Slytherin.

"I expected nothing less," Harry grinned. "I'll be waiting for you outside of Nuuk, in Greenland. Buckbeak will be able to take you there. Grimsheild—" Harry gestured to the goblin behind him. "—Will provide you with any provisions you need and help you out of the bank."

With that, Harry turned around and walked over to Buckbeak. He pulled out his wand and waved it while simultaneously cloaking the hippogriff so that he'd turn invisible. Behind him, Neville hissed sharply.

"I guess you really aren't coming back to Hogwarts..." the wizard muttered.

Harry rolled his shoulders in an easy shrug. "I have more important things to deal with," was all he'd say. He gave the other two teens a grin and waved one hand lazily. "See you around."

And then he disappeared silently. After he'd reappeared in the upper level of the bank, next to the transport disks, he realized belatedly that he should have created a cracking sound to accompany it.

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Harry pulled his thin jacket tighter around his shoulders as his eyes raked across the sea. It was the end of summer, so the temperature was still in the high 60s, but the wind had an unusually sharp bite to it. Harry absently placed a buffer around him, instantly blocking out the wind by diverting around him.

The young mage was standing on the outskirts of Nuuk, waiting for Neville and Theodore to arrive with Buckbeak. Speaking of which...

A grin broke out across Harry's face as he spotted a dot that was growing steadily larger on the horizon. Harry stood; watching and waiting, for only another fifteen minutes before Buckbeak finally came zooming in. He circled around a couple of times before landing in a crouch ten feet from Harry.

No sooner had Buckbeak touched the ground than Neville and Theodore slid off him and fell to their knees. Neville shuddered and placed his cheek against the ground.

"Oh Merlin," he groaned. "I will never curse the ground again, I swear. And I'll never touch a broom again either."

Harry raised one eyebrow, not even attempting to hide his amusement. "Rough ride?"

"Long ride," Theodore muttered. "Long, _long_ ride." He glared up at his black haired friend. "I am never doing anything like that again. _Never,_ no matter how much you pay me."

Harry ignored the comments and instead pulled a muggle pen out from his coat pocket. "This is your portkey," he told them as he tossed it to Theodore. Neville was still lying on the ground with his eyes closed. "Just say 'England' and it'll activate. Oh, and the money has been deposited into your accounts." He paused for a moment. "Thanks. For...doing this, and all."

Neville finally lifted his head from the ground. "...Why didn't you ask Hermione? Or Ron?"

Harry avoided Neville's searching gaze. "They would have told Dumbledore about this," he admitted finally. "They would have thought that it was in my best interests, certainly, but still...I can't afford to take that risk. Not now."

The two wizards nodded silently.

"Keep in contact," Theodore warned him. Harry quirked a smirk in reply.

"Only if you two do the same in return." Without another word he turned to Buckbeak. "Shall we get going, Buck'?"

Behind him he heard a quiet "England" and then felt the rush of magic that accompanied a portkey's departure. Harry leaned his head against Buckbeak's warm neck and let out a deep sigh.

"When did I start trusting Theo more than Hermione?" he murmured.

Neither Buckbeak nor the whistling wind had a reply.

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(1) - A picture of Ryan's wolf form can be found here: photobucket(DOT)com/albums/nn35/Shadow_Rebirth/RyansAnimangusForm(DOT)jpg  
(2) - About the "Wernicke's area in the brain" that's mentioned: unless you know what it is, ignore it. It's neuroscience crap that's not important to the story. The only reason I even put it in is because it's do with Senka's character, knowing that sort of stuff. But you as readers don't need to know it.  
(3) - If you don't remember what transports disks are, their definition and explanations for other odd things can be found in my yahoo group. For more info about that, read the A/N below.

A/N: For NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) I'll be working on this story, so you'll probably see a bunch of chapters in the next few weeks.

I've also recently started a yahoo group for my fanfictions. It'll act as an archive, but also has posted a lot of information on various races, magical theory, etc. as well as character bios. If you have any questions about this story, please direction them there and I'll get back to you. Please check it out at: www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction

Thanks and please review!

--S.R.


	14. Chapter 14: The Halloween

Title: Shades of Gray: The Halloween  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 5,842  
Story WC: 71,441  
First Written: November 1, 2008  
Last Edited: November 3, 2008  
Posted: November 3, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. Unfortunately, it also means that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort is going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 14  
_The Halloween_

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On Halloween morning, Harry had to literally drag himself out of bed. For the past few weeks all that had been on his mind was just how bad some of his past Halloweens had been. He desperately hoped that this year's would be different.

Once Harry had blearily struggled to get dressed, he headed towards the Curtain of Mist. Along the way he paused at the small table pushed up against the wall and scowled when he saw that another letter from Dumbledore had arrived. Over the past few months the old man and several of his old friends had been repeatedly owling him. At first they'd only been begging for him to return home, but by now they were demanding that he tell them were he was. For a while now Harry had been ignoring the letters and so with a flick of his wrists he sent the letter flying into a trash bin, unopened.

Despite the time of year the weather outside was comfortably warm, Harry noticed as he trudged through the Crossways to his first class with his friends. It was doubtless due to the numerous enchantments placed over the Greenland Magical Reserve, regulating the temperature.

The sunlight couldn't be changed by magic, however, and already the sun was almost completely gone. To make up for this there were numerous floating balls of light hovering in the air at uniform intervals. They were about two feet in diameter and let off a bluish light that easily chased away the darkness.

Professor Cordula, their Physical Arts instructor, was waiting for the class when they arrived that morning. He stood with his feet planted firmly on the ground, spread apart, and his thick arms crossed across his barrel-like chest as he surveyed them with sharp amber eyes. The class gathered unsurely in front of the werewolf, wondering why he was there since he usually didn't appear until after they'd finished their warm-up exercises.

"We won't be doing the usual practices today," Professor Cordula barked once they'd all arrived. "You'd progressed far enough in your weapons practice for me to judge you ready to get your real weapons."

Instantly everyone began chatting excitedly and Harry exchange wide grins with his friends. This was what they'd all been waiting for! Now they'd get the blades that they'd master in, the ones that they'd been told about since the beginning of the year.

Perhaps this Halloween wouldn't be so bad after all.

Professor Cordula led the class down into the basements beneath the school. They traveled single file down a narrow, winding staircase for what seemed like forever--though the distortion of time was most likely caused by anticipation--before they came out into a long hallway that stretched on into the darkness. Cordula stopped three doors down and ushered them into the room.

As soon as Harry stepped inside he couldn't help but gape in shock. The room itself was at least as large as the Banquet Hall and had a high, arching ceiling. Its walls were lined countless weapons of every type imaginable. There must have been thousands and thousands there!

Ryan let out a low whistle. "They must've been stockpiling these weapons for a thousand years!" the young werewolf whispered in awe.

Meanwhile, Professor Cordula had stridden to the center of the large store room. "Listen up!" he called harshly. "You will all be getting a weapon today. However, as you may have heard, you will not be choosing the weapon. Instead it's your _magic_ that will choose which weapon fits the best. Not which one you think makes you look the coolest, but which one actually _fits_ you.

"In a moment I will be temporarily blinding all of you. Don't panic and run around screaming or I'll just knock you out and let you do this on your own time. Instead you will _calmly_ reach out with your senses as you've been taught to do and approach whichever weapon is your instincts tell you to go for. You don't need to worry about running into anything since your magic will lead you, but be careful regardless. There have been a few times in the past where two people have chosen the same weapon, but we'll deal with those sorts of situations as they come up. Ready everyone? Go."

As if a blind had been pulled over his eyes, Harry suddenly found himself plunged into darkness. He tensed, fighting the instinctive panic that rose up within him. Then he tentatively reached out with his senses as they'd all been taught to do and waited for something to happen.

The reaction was almost instantaneously. Harry felt a pull, like some sort of an urge telling him to walk. Without even thinking about what he was doing, he began to do so. Despite his fears about running into something or someone, Harry had no such problems. He _did_ however have to suppress snickers however when an "Oof!" that sounded suspiciously like Zahra came from the other side of the room. How amusing they must look to Professor Cordula, he mused, meandering around like a bunch of fools.

Harry continued walking until his feet abruptly stopped. Still acting on instinct, Harry reached out and his hand closed around a rough, old handle. Almost as soon as his fingers touched the metal the temporary blindness was lifted from his eyes. Harry blinked few times to clear the disorienting sensation and then finally looked down at the weapon in his hand.

The weapon he'd chosen was an old Viking broadsword**(1)**. It was a straight blade with a hilt that was made out of some strange golden bronze metal that almost resembled stone. A strip of the metal about an inch thick ran up the middle of the blade and it was decorated with various runes. The broadsword was about five feet in length and half a foot in width, but despite its size Harry found that he could lift it with both hands without too much trouble. He assumed the runes had something to do with it.

After a few minutes Harry met up with the rest of his friends. They too had chosen their weapons. Ryan's was a large double-bladed war axe, Damion's was a relatively simple rapier, Zahra's was a pair of daggers with curved blades and smooth hilts, Senka's an old Japanese katana, and Azrael's was a long scimitar with a knotted hilt.**(2)**

"We'll start with individual weapon use tomorrow," Professor Cordula told them as they stared in awe at their new weapons. "Your weapons will be kept in the Physical Arts room at _all times_ when not in use, until I deem you skilled and responsible enough it take care of them. You can try and steal them from the cabinets if you like," he added with a smile that sent shivers down the student's spines.

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After they'd put their weapons in the Physical Arts classroom, Harry proceeded to Magical Theory with Ryan and Zahra. As they sat down and waited for Professor Brenton to arrive, Harry watched Zahra from the corner of his eye. Though Ryan was oblivious, as usual, Harry had noticed that she was unusually fidgety that day. And he doubted it was because of their new weapons.

"Zahra...?" he finally said tentatively. The mage glanced at him questioningly. "Uh, are you...alright?"

To Harry's great surprise, Zahra smiled bitterly. Quickly the expression fell away however and the young Egyptian woman released a sigh.

"I'm fine..." she said after a moment, "It's just--"

Zahra's mouth closed with an audible click as the door burst open and Professor Brenton strode her, wisps of her blonde hair flying around her face. Zahra sunk back into her chair and Harry reluctantly let the topic go.

Professor Brenton seemed to be unusually enthusiastic that day, if the bright smile stretched across her mouth was anything to go by. As she faced the class she was practically bouncing on her heels.

"Now that we've gone over a lot of history of the magical world, today we're going to be touching on a rather interesting topic," she told them brightly. "Magic. As in magic itself: What it is and where it comes from. We wait until this far into the year to go into this mainly because by now you've been thoroughly immersed in physics and chemistry by your other professors.

"To start off with, let's go over what we know about what we know about magic. As I've said a million times already, magic is energy that magical beings and creatures are able to manipulate. When one performs a spell it's basically a transfer of electromagnetic energy from the caster to whatever you're affecting. This works similarly to how a microwave does in that it affects only the certain atoms that you want it to. When a wizard casts a spell, this energy is in a visible frequency of the energy spectrum--hence the jets of light--while we magical beings are capable of casting magic on a different frequency.

"Now comes the question of where this energy comes from. As you've all learnt, it is impossible to create or destroy energy. We can only take what it already here and change and manipulate it. However, we do not manipulate the natural energy around us to perform feats of magic except in a few cases. Because of this the magic seems to come with in us, from our magical core, but this isn't the case, even though it may seem so.

"The truth is that our magical cores are more like magnets or lightning rods. The energy that we use is drawn from the electromagnetic field that surrounds the earth. When we channel magic our cores instantly draw this energy to us. It is then converted in our cores and channeled through our magical pathways for use. How this works we aren't exactly sure, despite many millennia of study. Just as we aren't sure about the true nature of gravity, the electromagnetic field is still a bit of a mysterious to us. Even most of what I'm telling you right now is more theory than fact, since none of it can be proved conclusively."

Harry fiddled thoughtfully with his pen as he mused over Professor Benton's explanations. She continued on into more theory about electromagnetic energy, but Harry found it hard to take in. The idea that magic was basically energy drawn into the body from the electromagnetic field around the earth was mind boggling. How was attracted to the body instantaneously? Why did some beings have the ability to use the energy? How was it possible _period_?

Harry's mind began to wander off further along similar lines until Zahra finally nudged him sharply, forcing him to pay attention. This was why Magical Theory wasn't all that fun; as interesting as it could be, sometimes it made his head hurt.

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Harry's fingers agitatedly bounced up and down on the wooden arm of one of Ciar's chairs. His nails made a dull clicking sound that resounded through the otherwise silent room. Harry's chin was resting in his other hand, which was propped up by the elbow on the opposite chair arm. His back was hunched and his overall appearance radiated boredom.

Where _was_ he?

The young mage had been waiting in Ciar's office for over ten minutes now, but there was no sign of the dark elf. Ciar _never_ missed out one of their lessons, but now...

When the office door finally clicked open Harry instantly perked up. He quickly deflated again when instead of Ciar, Aetius stepped inside. Harry slumped back in his chair dejectedly while the blonde vampire smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry 'bout that, Ha--Blake," he said, quickly correcting himself on the name. "I had to take over Ciar's classes for the day and I only just got finished cleaning up."

"Had to take over his classes?" Harry repeated while frowning worriedly. "Where's Professor Ciar?"

"Away," Aetius replied evasively. Harry's frown deepened, but he didn't press the issue. "_Anyway_," Aetius continued, "You're excused from Soul Magic until Ciar comes back."

"And when will that be?"

The professor shrugged, though whether it was because he didn't know or just didn't want to answer, Harry wasn't sure. Aetius quickly shooed Harry from the classroom, telling him that he'd let him know when Ciar returned. Harry threw a scowl over his shoulder, but did as he was told and began to walk off. Perhaps he'd go check up on Buckbeak again. The hippogriff had integrated into the Magical Reserve well, but he still always seemed overjoyed whenever Harry went to visit.

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Ciar bowed on one knee, his head bent low in respect. Rising up on either side of him were lines of old stone columns. They thrust up into the darkness that seemed to mingle in the long hall so that no matter how much one strained their neck, they'd never be able to see the ceiling.

Standing in front of Ciar was a tall woman dressed in a pure white hooded robe. The hood covered her face, hiding it from view.

For several long moments silence stretched one between the two. Then finally, the woman spoke in a voice that swept through the ancient pillared hall like billowing wind.

"You wonder why we have called you here."

Ciar said nothing. He didn't even lift his head to look at the woman as he waited for her to continue. She paused for a moment, allowing the echoes of the words to fade before speaking once more.

"Events that were placed in motion four thousand years ago are coming to a climax," she said softly. Despite the volume, her voice seemed to easily reach every corner of the dark hall. "Soon it shall all be decided."

Ciar finally looked up at the robed woman before him. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously and a frown had settled onto his face.

"What events?"

"...There is a boy," the woman said instead of answering his question. "He will be heavily involved. He is already involved."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ciar growled, his eyes flashing with impatience. He seemed unusually and uncharacteristically agitated. "It's not as though I know--" Abruptly he cut himself off as he realized the meaning behind the woman's words. "...Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter," she agreed. "Few know this, but a witch with traces of nymph blood gave prophecy a year after his birth." The dark elf's eyes widened in shock, but before he could even open his mouth the woman continued, "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born as the seventh month dies...Born to those who thrice defied him...And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal...but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die and the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives...The one with power the vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._"

"The Dark Lord..." Ciar mused with a frown. "So Harry is fated to battle Lord Voldemort? Then his abilities as a mage must be this 'power the Dark Lord knows not'."

"Not quite." Ciar looked up sharply. "The wizards were both correct and incorrect in their assumption that the Dark Lord referred to is Voldemort."

"Both correct _and_ incorrect?" he repeated incredulously. "How is that possible?"

"Events that were placed in motion four thousand years ago are coming to a climax," the woman reiterated, blatantly ignoring the question.

Ciar's teeth clenched, revealing his annoyance. "Yes," he forced out. "So you've said. If these events are so horrible however, why don't you try being clearer so that I can figure out what you want me to do?"

The woman lifted her head enough for Ciar to see pure white eyes, devoid of any pupil, staring at him from beneath her hood. A shiver ran down his spine and he quickly dropped his gaze back to the marble floor.

"You know perfectly well that we cannot interfere, Erebus, son of Aristarchos." Ciar flinched away at the name, as though he'd been physically struck. "It is not our place to do so."

Ciar fell into silence for several moments. Then he looked back up and met the robed woman's gaze without an ounce of hesitation.

"What is it you wish me to do?" he asked.

"Guide him. Guide him and watch his footsteps, for without support he shall fall and so shall we all."

Ciar bowed forward until his hair brushed against the floor, paying his respects to the nymph before him, the High Priestess of the Elvin Temple.

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Harry hastily sped through the halls of Silvermoor, barely even noticing how his footsteps echoed loudly off the walls. In his last class Aetius had informed him that Ciar had returned and he was eager to find out where the dark elf had been.

When Harry burst into Ciar's office, the professor glanced up from where he'd been sitting behind his desk. "Sit, Harry," he grunted, turning his attention back onto the small piece of wood in front of him.

Harry hesitated, surprised. Ciar always called him Blake instead of Harry. So why...?

Before his thoughts could progress any farther, the young mage's interest was diverted as a brief burst of energy washed over his skin, emanating from the wood that Ciar's hands were hovering around.

"A portkey?" Harry inquired curiously.

Ciar raised an eyebrow. "Yes, actually. I was just creating one. How did you know?"

"The magic," Harry replied with a shrug. "You know, how all portkeys have that weird prickly feeling."

"No, actually, I don't know."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? The wave of magic portkey creation gives off is kind of hard to miss..."

Ciar stared at Harry. "...Are you telling me that you can _feel_ the magic?"

"...Er, yes? I mean, can't you?"

"No," Ciar said dryly, "I can't. And neither can anyone else in the world."

Harry felt a cold chill settle of his shoulders. He briefly recalled how he'd felt magic emanating from the black gates of Myrddin, but that no one else had. This was just _great_. In the wizarding world he'd been the only person capable of performing magic without a wand and now he was the only magical being capable of sensing magic.

The teen released a groan. "Is this another side affect of the Killing Curse or something?"

Ciar didn't answer. Confused, Harry looked over to him and found that he was staring strangely at Harry, lost in thought.

"Er, professor?"

The older man shook his head his head as if to clear it. "Ah, sorry. What did you ask?"

Harry hesitated. "Uh, I was wondering if this could another side affect of the Killing Curse?"

"Hmm," Ciar mused with a frown. "Possibly. There are few other possible explanations except..."

"Sir?"

"Yes, yes, death magic is one of the few possible explanations," he repeated. Harry eyed him strangely, wondering what had thrown the professor so off balance. He'd never seen him like this before. "I have considered before that you might be able to control the death magic in your body and this may well prove it."

Harry's jaw dropped. "_Control_ the death magic?" he asked. "But I thought that magical beings could only draw upon it for short bursts of time? And how could my ability to sense magic lead you to think that I could control death magic?"

"Magic is energy, as you know," Ciar began. "It surrounds us and is a part of what makes life, life. Death magic is the exact opposite of magic. It saps energy away, leaving only death behind. It can be used to for a variety of things, true, but this is still its basic definition. In theory, if you have true control over death magic then it would be possible for you to sense the magic in things around you, just as a predator senses its prey. And it is true that normally we can only draw upon death magic in short bursts of time, but there was one other person capable of truly controlling death magic."

"Well then maybe I should contact them," Harry said eagerly. "They might be able to help me!"

To Harry's great shock, Ciar did something Harry'd never seen him do before: he snorted. "The other person is not someone you'd ever want to meet, I can assure you," he said dryly. "And he's been gone for a long time anyway; nearly four thousand years now."

"Oh," Harry said, disappointed. "Er, never mind then."

"That does not mean that you won't be able to learn to control it," the professor pointed out, "Just that we're going to have to experiment for a while to figure out _how_ to control it. This truly is a power that the world knows not."

Harry never realized he'd forgotten to ask Ciar where he'd been.

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The weeks following Ciar's return blurred into a monotony of classes. There were no tests in December, but by the time winter break rolled around Harry was restless for a break regardless. Silvermoor asked for more from its students than Hogwarts ever had, but then, the students also had more to give.

Though Silvermoor was open for students to come and go as they pleased of the break, Harry was going to spend most of his time away. The reason? He was going to buy an apartment. He needed a real home after all and using a wizarding property was out of the question if he didn't want to get caught. Thus it was time to approach the Magical World's real estate companies.

And so he did.

Within four days after school got out, Harry had found and purchased an apartment in New York City. It was a rather average sized two bedroom flat, but it was modern and had magical protections on it. And best of all, it was Harry's. It was the first place that he could ever truly call his own home.

Harry was interrupted from his musings by a series of quick knocks on the front door. He sighed and strode to open it calling as he did, "I'm coming, I'm coming already!"

The knocking continued until Harry opened the door, revealing a grinning Ryan. The werewolf was literally bouncing up and down in excitement. Harry just rolled his eyes and stepped backwards, allowing Ryan to enter.

The other teen curiously glanced around Harry's apartment. "Nice," he said finally. He turned to face Harry, still grinning. "I can't wait 'til I can get my own place. My parents won't let me until I'm eighteen though, even though I managed to get into Silvermoor. Being an orphan's gotta be nice." Ryan suddenly began waving his arms around, panicking. "Not that loosing your parents is good or anything! I just meant, uh, I--"

Harry snickered. "Yeah, I get it, Ryan. Don't worry."

The amber eyed boy laughed nervously. "Uh, right. So, you ready to go then?"

"Yes," the mage replied. He picked up a bag lying near the door and pulled the strap over his shoulder. "Let's get going."

Ryan, who had a backpack as well, bounded out of the door ahead of Harry. "Damion's meeting us at the bank in Rome, right?" he asked while Harry locked up.

"That's the plan. We agreed to meet at two and it's already a quarter past one."

Ryan's perpetual grin widened in a full-blown smile. "I still can't believe that he invited us to stay at his manor for a few days. It's too bad that Zahra and Senka couldn't come, but I guess that this means that it'll just be us guys!"

Harry and Ryan chatted as they headed down to the nearest subway entrance. They took a ride down to the south end of Manhattan, where the business district was. There was a shopping section for magical beings there, which was where they would find a branch of the Gringotts Bank.

Unknown to the muggles and even the wizards, the subway had a special stop just for magical beings. It was the only way to get the Sindri shopping mall, except for through Gringotts, which also opened up onto the wizarding shopping street. And so when, unnoticed by the muggles, the train pulled to a halt and an enchanted voice called out, "Sindri Magical Shopping Center", Harry and Ryan stood and excited.

They stepped out onto a platform that, unlike the muggle ones, was made of smooth white marble tiles. There were only a few others getting on and off and Harry watched with raised eyebrows as a tall fayerie passed them. None of the muggles even glanced at her, indicating some sort of an enchantment.

Ahead of them was a tall, wide staircase leading aboveground. The two students quickly bounded up and stepped out into what seemed like another world.

Spread out before them was a massive shopping mall that looked like a mix between modern and ancient architecture. Golden roman-style columns lined the marble walkway, where masses of magical beings from all races were mixing together. On all sides were various stores than opened onto the main walkway through large arches. They were selling everything imaginable, both magical and non-magical, from potions ingredients, to books, to furniture.

Harry glanced up and saw that there was a second level to the shopping center above them, with various walkways crisscrossing through the air. Above that was a red dome ceiling. At various intervals on the ceiling there were wide stained glass windows, allowing sunlight to shine inside.

"_Woah_," Ryan breathed. "This is awesome! We've got a magical shopping center in San Francisco that I've been to a bunch of times, but it's _nothing_ like this!"

Harry nodded dumbly in agreement. As he glanced around he noticed that there were people from all nations there as well. The mix of cultures was truly incredible. He was so tempted to check out a bunch of the stores, but had to remind himself that they were already on a tight schedule. He'd have to visit some other time.

"Let's head to Gringotts," Harry said as he glanced over a large map that was in the middle of the walkway. There was a flashing red arrow on the map saying "_You are here_". Below, in cursive lettering were the words: "Where would you like to go?" Below that were columns of list of stores, listed alphabetically

Ryan reached past Harry and tapped _Gringotts_ on the list with his pointer finger. Instantly a red line shot out from the arrow on the map, drawing out the quickest path. It stopped in front of a large building in the back of the mall, which was then highlighted in red. Before Harry's eyes the words "Gringotts Magical Bank" wrote themselves out across the building.

Harry raised his eyebrows and glanced at his companion. There werewolf shrugged. "What? There's one of these in every mall. They're a pretty nice piece of enchantment. Not to mention convenient."

Harry shook his head in amusement at Ryan's blasé attitude. Suddenly he felt like an eleven year old kid again, staring in wonder at the wizarding world. There was so much that he didn't know yet about the magical world. So much that he had to learn.

Harry and Ryan set off through to mall, heading to Gringotts. They found it at the very end of the shopping center, just as the map had said. Its face was the same white marble that all Gringotts seemed to have and took up the entire wall. The entrance was not a pair of doors however, but instead a massive archway that led into a large room at least three stories tall.

The inside of the bank was almost indistinguishable from any other branch, just as they all seemed to be. Harry wondered not for the first time if they'd all been built at the same time.

Harry swiftly approached one of the goblins and asked for the transport disk to the branch in Rome. The squat goblin nodded and then silently led them over to one of the thick, black disks. Sure enough, _Rome, Italy_ was engraved on it in white. The goblin turned around and left them.

Harry had had experience with many different forms of transportation in his life, but nothing quite measured up to what a transport disk felt like. There was Apparation, which made you feel like you were being squeezed through a small tube; portkeys, which felt like a sharp jerk on the back of your navel; and Floo, which felt almost like a muggle rollercoaster ride. Transport disks, however, gave you the sensation of freefall for several seconds. Then it would disappear as quickly as it'd come, the bluish light would fade away, and you'd find yourself in a different Gringotts bank.

To Harry, transport disks were the most comfortable form of magical transportation. He'd only used them a few times and already he was completely used to them.

Once he'd arrived in Rome, Harry quickly stepped off the transport disk. It was a good thing too, for only a few seconds later the disk lit up again and Ryan appeared. There werewolf grinned at him before glancing around the bank.

"So," he began, "Where are we supposed to meet Dam-- Ah, never mind."

Harry turned to where Ryan gaze was directed and saw Damion, leaning up against a wall. The vampire pushed off the wall when he caught sight of them and strode over to meet them.

"Welcome to Italy," the vampire greeted as soon as he was close enough. He briefly flashed them a wide grin.

"So, how are we getting to your house?" Ryan questioned curiously. "Portkey?" It was one of the main methods of transportation in the magical world after all.

"That would be the fastest way," Damion agreed, "But I'm actually going to take you there via car, to give you a brief tour of the city."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Thanks Damion," he said sincerely. "A tour would be great."

Damion led them out of the bank and straight onto the street. Only a few feet away shiny, black limo was waiting for them. A man in a suit who was clearly a vampire opened the door for them as soon as he saw Damion. Ryan gaped and quickly scrambled after Harry and Damion to get inside.

"A freaking _limo_, man?" the werewolf shot a Damion. The vampire shrugged easily, uncaring.

Lying across one of the seats was Nyx, Damion's nundu familiar. The massive leopard stared at them through lazy, half-lidded eyes from where her head was resting on her front paws.

"She wanted to come," Damion explained, taking a seat next to her. "She loves car rides, for some bizarre reason."

Suddenly Ryan turned to Harry. "Speaking of which, where's your familiar? I haven't seen that snake in months."

"She's back at my apartment, right now, but I'm still keeping her at Silvermoor during the year," Harry replied. He shrugged. "I guess I just don't take her out much; she's content where she is, for the time being."

Harry, Ryan, and Damion, spent the rest of the day driving around Rome. Damion pointed out all of the famous landmarks and promised to take them to a couple of them sometime during their stay.

Eventually the limo pulled to a stop in front of a massive old three story mansion. It was surrounded by acres and acres of private land, including many gardens. The three teens stepped out of the limo and Damion led them up to the house.

"Azrael will be arriving tomorrow," Damion said as they ambled up the estate's stone steps. "He has some things to take care of first."

The inside of the mansion was even more extravagant than the outside. With raised eyebrow, Harry observed the crystal chandeliers, priceless vases, ancient murals, and golden decorations. Ryan was outright gaping at everything, doubtless having never seen such a blatant display of wealth in his life.

Damion brought them into a large parlor that was decorated in the same mix-of-eras style as the rest of the house. The vampire opened his mouth to say something, but before he could they were interrupted by the entrance of anther man.

"Damion," the vampire greeted, stopping before them. His voice was cold and formal.

Instantly Damion folded his hands in front of him and bowed. "Father."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. His gaze sweeper over the vampire before them. So _this_ was Lord Noctis, Damion's father.

Seeing them next to each other, Harry could clearly notice the similarities. Damion's father had the same basic facial structure as his son, but his face was chilly and hard, as if it'd been carved from marble. His eyes were as black as obsidian and looked just as sharp and cold too. His hair was long like Damion's, but was tied back by a stone clip instead of being braided.

Damion's father glanced over Harry and Ryan, looking almost disappointed. He completely ignored his son. "I am Lord Ambrosios Noctis, Damion's father," he said after a moment.

Ryan stepped forward eagerly, holding out his hand. "I'm Ryan Henderson. It's an honor to meet you, sir!"

Ambrosios' eyes flickered over Ryan's hand, but he didn't move to shake it. "A...pleasure, I'm sure," he said with a sneer.

Ryan gulped and slowly retracted his hand.

Ambrosios' gaze turned on Harry, waiting impatiently. The young mage's teeth clenched in his mouth. Damion had never spoken much of his father, despite Zahra's frequent prodding. Now he realized why.

"Blake Gray," he introduced. His voice was carefully void of emotion.

The older vampire's face went even blanker, if possible. "You'd be the one Erebus Ciar works with?" he asked, practically spitting out the dark elf's name. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Damion stiffening.

"Yes," Harry replied carefully. "He teaches me soul magic."

Ambrosios made a sound in the back of his throat that might have been disgust. Why he seemed to have such a deep-seated hate for Ciar, Harry couldn't even begin to guess.

The door to the parlor opened once more, letting in another vampire. This one quickly approached Ambrosios, bowing as he did so.

"Lord Ambrosios," he greeted. "I just received a message for you. It said that--" The vampire suddenly stopped. He glanced and the three teens and revised whatever he'd been about to say. "--There has been a breakthrough on...the project."

The elder Noctis' eye widen in surprise. He waved the other vampire away and then turned back around.

"I'm afraid I must be going now," Ambrosios said quickly. "Damion, please give my regards to your cousin." Without another word he swept from the room.

For the rest of the night, Harry's thoughts lingered on the "breakthrough" and the look of unholy glee that'd been on Ambrosios' face.

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(1) - A link to a picture of Harry's broadsword can be found in my profile.  
(2) - Links to the pictures of their weapons can be found in my profile.

A/N: Someone recently asked me how long this story is going to be and I thought I'd share my answer with everyone: The story will take place over about three years, with the majority of it taking place during Harry's third year of school. It'll end just after he turns twenty. This could change, of course, but that's basically what I have planned.

Apparently a few people were a bit confused about why Harry didn't just take Buckbeak to Greenland himself, so I'll explain it a bit more: He couldn't take Buckbeak via Apparation or portkey, because of the distance and Buckbeak's mass, respectively. He also couldn't fly the hippogriff there himself since he couldn't miss school. Hence, he asked Neville and Theodore, two of his friends to do it. I hope that clears up an questions.

Oh, and people keep asking me what the pairings are for this story. Let me make it simple: Read the summary. Still don't get it? Then I'll spell it out: There will be no pairings. Well, at least no main ones. Doubtless some pairings will develop off to the side, but none with Harry. I'm writing this story for the plot, not the romance. I couldn't see Harry developing a relationship until all the shit with Voldemort is over anyway. After that, who knows.

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	15. Chapter 15: The Revelations

Title: Shades of Gray: The Revelations  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 5,865  
Story WC: 77,306  
First Written: November 2, 2008  
Last Edited: November 10, 2008  
Posted: November 10, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. Unfortunately, it also means that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort is going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 15  
_The Revelations_

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Harry felt awkward. Really, _really_ awkward. It might have been because he was surrounded by numerous rich, high-class magical beings. It might have been because of the extravagantly decorated ballroom twice the size of Silvermoor's Banquet Hall. It might even have been because of the formal muggle suit he was wearing, his first ever suit.

But really, it was because of the hungry way the veela on the other side of the room was eyeing him.

A shiver raced down Harry's spine and he studiously avoided looking in her direction. He wasn't sure if he was blushing or not, so he quickly took another swig from his crystal goblet.

"Blake?" Damion questioned with one arched eyebrow. "You alright?"

"Er, fine," Harry said quickly, his eyes flickering away momentarily. When his gaze caught on the veela's silver eyes, he quickly turned back to Damion.

The vampire was laughing at him. Silently, but laughing none the less. Harry glared.

"You know, I'm surprised that magical beings celebrate Christmas," Harry commented, making an attempt at diverting Damion's attention. "After all, neither the Magical World nor the Wizarding World is religious."

Damion gave him a strange look and then abruptly began to chuckle. "I forget sometimes how new you are to the Magical World," he said. "This ball in the Memorial Ball, in celebration of Cohibeo Mors Mortis Day. It's an old holiday that actually has roots in Egypt. My father ha held this ball annually for several centuries now and most international dignitaries attend."

"Oh." Harry hesitated, surprised. It had never occurred to him that the Magical World might have its own holidays, even though they had their own culture.

"It's supposed to celebrate some great victory," Damion continued. "'The Restraint of Death', as its name implies. I don't know much about it; you'd have to ask a history Master about the legends."

Suddenly Damion's gaze had moved past him, over Harry's shoulder. Harry glanced back and found that an older mage was approaching them. He had a wrinkled face, flint colored eyes, and an almost entirely bald head. Like most people there, he was dressed in a muggle suit, but there was also a strange crest over his left breast.

"Master Kyrylo," Damion greeted, bowing formally. "It's a please to see you again. Might I introduce you to my companion? This is Blake Gray, one of my fellow peers at Silvermoor Academy. Blake, this is Hryhoriy Kyrylo. He's on the Concilium, the Mage's Council. He also runs a research center in Ukraine."

"It's an honor to meet you," Harry said politely.

"Gray?" the elder mage murmured. "You wouldn't happen to be the mage that Master Ciar is working with, would you? He's mentioned you before."

Harry's eyebrows shot up despite his attempts to keep his expression neutral. Ciar had mentioned him? When? _Why_?

"Uh, yes, I suppose I am," Harry said. He exchanged a quick glance with Damion and then scrambled to change the topic. "Er, how long have you been on the Concilium, Master Kyrylo?" he asked.

Kyrylo smirked. "Longer than you've been alive, Mr. Gray," he rasped. "Long enough to have seen changes in this world...Long enough to know when change is coming."

Again Damion and Harry glanced at each other, confused. What was Kyrylo going on about? And why was he telling _Harry_?

Only a few minutes into their exchange Kyrylo excused himself, much to Harry's relief. The man was odd beyond belief, making for a very awkward conversation. Harry and Damion then drifted apart, Harry to go find Ryan or Zahra--who was visiting briefly from Egypt--and Damion to speak to an old friend he'd caught sight of.

Unfortunately, the ballroom was exceedingly large and packed with people, making it nearly impossibly for Harry to spot anyone he recognized. And so, with a sigh the young mage leaned up against one of the walls, arms crossed before him, and stared out across the masses.

"Not one for dances?" a low voice next to Harry asked.

Harry snorted lightly, remembering the dance at Hogwarts during his fourth year. "No, not really," he replied dryly. The other person chuckled in agreement.

Curious, Harry glanced to the side and instantly sharply drew in a breath in shock. Leaning against the wall next to him, only a few feet away, was a teen about his age. The shocking part, however, was that he looked nothing like Harry had ever seen before.

The young man had dark purple skin. _Purple_. His hair was black and messy, much like Harry's, only shorter, and his eyes were completely black, no whites whatsoever. There was a thin silver slit down the middle of them, which Harry took for pupils. His claw-like nails, Harry noted with detached shock, were also pure black.

The teen's clothes were atypical as well. They resembled a suit, except that they consisted of only a high collared jacket and black pants. On his feet were a pair of heavy black, military-style boots.

The strange teen quirked his lips upward in amusement, clearly sensing Harry's shock. "Never seen a drakyn before, I'm assuming?" he asked.

His throat suddenly feeling dry, Harry gulped deeply. "Er, n-no," Harry stuttered. "Sorry," he added belatedly. "It's just..."

The drakyn let out a brief, harsh bark of laughter. "Don't worry about it," he replied, clearly amused. "I've gotten far worse reactions, believe me. I suppose it's partially our fault, for secluding ourselves anyway. One could argue that fayeries are just as...different...but people have no adverse reactions to them because they are a normal part of the Magical World."

Harry nodded, agreeing the purple-skinned teen's words. Now that he considered it, fayeries weren't too different from these "drakyns". They both had strangely colored skin and while fayeries had sharp teeth, they had sharp nails.

"Yeah, I don't believe I've ever met a...uh, drakyn, before," he admitted. He paused for a moment and then suddenly stuck his hand out. "I'm Blake Gray."

The drakyn grinned, unsurprising revealing black, stone-like teeth. "Ty Kadundor. It's nice to meet you." His black eyes swept across the people for a moment. "My father required me to be here," he said suddenly, returning to their earlier topic of the dance. "He's the ambassador between Malauak and the rest of the world, so he expects me to be well traveled and to know 'everyone who needs to be known'." Ty scoffed, showing exactly what he thought of his father's sentiments.

Harry couldn't help but grin, amused by the teen's openness. "Damion Noctis is a friend of mine," he said. "We both attend Silvermoor Academy of Magic."

"Silvermoor, hmm?" Ty murmured, sending him a calculating look. "Perhaps I'll see you there."

Before Harry could even begin to guess what Ty meant, the drakyn had pushed off the wall and disappeared into the crowd. He instantly blended, despite his purple skin.

Harry's mouth drew down into a frown as he considered Ty's words. Unfortunately, he had only a few seconds to do so before he suddenly found the veela from earlier standing only a few feet from him. A sultry smile was spread out a across her face.

"You looked troubled."

Harry's eyes widened a fraction. The he relaxed, smiling slightly. At least he knew now why Fleur Delacour's veela charm had never worked on him; it didn't affect magical beings.

"Just trying to figure out a riddle," Harry said smoothly. The veela's eyes fluttered, feigning interest and Harry's smile widened. "Just a riddle."

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Harry walked silently along next to Zahra towards their Elemental Manipulation class. His expression clearly relayed his trepidation, but Zahra didn't notice. And that was exactly why Harry was worried. The Egyptian mage had been acting a bit strangely recently, but this morning it had gotten drastically worse. She was fidgeting even now, extremely distracted.

"Er, Zahra," Harry began hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

Zahra winced. "That obvious?" she asked. She released a sigh when Harry nodded cautiously. "I'm fi-- Well, okay, I'm not fine," she quickly amended when Harry threw her a knowing look. "It's just...Well, I got a letter from by father last night saying that my brother has disappeared. My father has told me that some strange things have been going on back home, but I never expected anything like this to happen..."

Harry frowned and his brown creased with unease. "He just...disappeared?"

"Yes, but...Well, you see, my family comes from a long line of tomb guardians. We're among the mages who guard the tombs from raiders and remove the enchantments so that people don't get hurt. My father thought at first that something might have happened to Jibade, my brother, in one of the pyramids, but...There's no sign of him. Nothing at all that even magic can reveal."

Harry continued to ponder Zahra's predicament as they met up with Damion and entered their Elemental Manipulation class. There they split up and went into their separate groups, which where separated by element.

As class began, Harry let go of his thoughts with a sigh. He brought his hands up before them like they were instructed to do and began to focus all of his attention onto forming a ball of tightly compacted, quickly rotating air in his hands. The goal was that once they had enough control over the air, they'd be able to use the balls of air as projectiles similar to bullets. It was like having infinite ammunition.

"I can't wait 'til we get to work on lightning," a fayerie near Harry muttered. "This is so _boring_."

Harry snorted in agreement and then muttered a curse as the air began to slip out of his control. A tedious exercise it may have been, but it was difficult nonetheless.

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That Saturday found Harry strolling through one of Silvermoor's gardens, on his way to visit Buckbeak out in the Reserve. Three foot tall hedges covered in some strange white flowers lined the stone pathway he was walking along. Those hedges and the rest of the garden spread out for a good ways around him, but fortunately the path he was on was rather clear-cut; it was nothing like the maze he'd had to go through in his fourth year at Hogwarts.

Soft sunlight reminiscent to the early morning was illuminating the grounds. As it was almost spring the sky was finally beginning to lighten.

Just as Harry turned a corner around a large stone statue, both his feet and his mind came to an abrupt halt. Not five feet from him was Aetius, kneeling on the ground, soaked in blood. It was seeping onto the tiles beneath him, staining them crimson. His eyes were glazed and he looked like he was only half conscious.

As Harry watched Aetius swayed in place, looking dazed. In a quick few steps Harry, was crouching in front of the blonde vampire, holding him steady.

"Professor Aetius?!" he called, fighting his building panic.

Aetius' eyes cleared for a moment and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was a rattling cough. Blood dribbled down from the corner of his mouth.

Swearing loudly, Harry quickly lifted Aetius into the air with his magic, trying to keep him as steady as possible. Not for the first time, he cursed his lack of medical knowledge. Then, clearing his mind of anything irrelevant, the young mage began to race back to the school with a floating Aetius in tow.

Fortunately, Harry did in fact know where the Healers' branch of Silvermoor was and was able to make his way there in short order. He sent a student he ran into along the way ahead of him so that by the time he arrived Professor Cyan, a fayerie who was the head Healer, was waiting.

"Put him down on one of the beds," Cyan quickly instructed.

"I found him outside," Harry said as he lowered Aetius down. "He'd collapsed on the pathway near the Beta Building. I don't know what happened or how he got there. I--"

"Yes, Mr. Gray," Cyan interrupted. She sent Harry an assessing glance before turning back to her patient, her hands hovering above him. "Please go fetch Professor Ciar. Mr. Ailen," she said to the other student, "Please go inform the Headmistress of what's happened."

Harry returned not five minutes later with Ciar in tow. The dark elf's face was mostly expressionless, but Harry could make out faint lines of worry around his eyes. Ciar had already thoroughly grilled him on what happened and so knew what to expect.

When they arrived in the Healer's branch Harry saw that there were now three Healers, including Cyan, surrounding Aetius' bed. The sheets beneath the vampire were stained with blood, but the man himself looked astoundingly better than he had when Harry had last seen him. Even as Harry watched a laceration on his chest knit itself back together beneath Professor Cyan's hands.

Ciar immediately strode over to the bed and exchanged a few quick words with the Healers as they finished up. Cyan frowned disapprovingly and then nodded. As she magically cleaned her hands she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, the other two Healers right behind her. The fayerie paused next to Harry and began to usher him out as well.

"Come, Mr. Gray," she said firmly. "You'll have to wait in the hall."

Harry wanted to argue with her, morbidly curious about both how Aetius was doing and what had happened with him, but one glance at Ciar disapproved him of this notion. Harry nodded silently and then proceeded out into the hallway. He leaned up against the stone wall, arms crossed before him, ready to wait.

However, it wasn't long before curiosity got the best of Harry. He struggled with himself for a moment, mentally debating, before finally giving in.

Cautiously Harry stepped up to the closed door leading into the Healers' branch and pressed his ear up against the wood, attempt to hear the conversation going on inside without magic, for fear of alerting Ciar to his presence. It came out muffled at best, but he could still catch a few words.

"--Never expected it...There was a...Starting to gather at..." Aetius' voice was saying. His voice was hoarse, but strong. Harry pressed his ear even closer to the wood, attempting to make sense of the bits he was hearing. "I thought I'd...he'd found...went over to the...Lord Noctis..." Now that last bit caught Harry's attention. He drew back for a moment, staring at the door in shock and horror.

Ciar's voice was a bit clearer than Aetius'. "And he attacked you for it?" he asked.

"...Probably thought he could get away with it."

Harry took a stumbling step away from the door. Lord Noctis had attacked Aetius? Damion's _father_? Or at the very least he'd been involved somehow. Harry decided that he really didn't want to hear any more. He took a silent gulp and quickly hurried away.

After Harry had left, the room within the Healers' branch was silent for several long moments. Aetius gazed up at Ciar from where he was laying the bed with guarded eyes and an uncharacteristically serious face.

"Are you sure that was wise, Eru?"

Ciar turned his gaze to the stone wall, allowing the silence to settle again. When he finally spoke it was in a soft, even tone that even Aetius had to strain to catch.

"...He is the only chance that the Noctis heir has."

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"Hey, Professor," Harry said suddenly in the middle of one of his soul magic classes. It had only been a few weeks since the incident with Aetius, but the vampire was now at full health and he was one of the furthest thoughts from his mind. "What do you know about Voldemort?"

An undistinguishable emotion flickered across Ciar's face, but it was gone in flash and replaced by a questioningly raised eyebrow. "Voldemort?" the dark elf said doubtfully. "The wizard? What's brought this up?"

Harry shrugged lightly. "Nothing really. It's just that I figured that magical beings must know something about him."

"Hmm..." Ciar hummed, frowning thoughtfully. "Well, some research has been done into him," he admitted finally. "Though many magical beings look down on wizards, we still pay close attention to their society because it can easily affect us." Was it just Harry or had his voice suddenly turned bitter?

"...What _do_ you know?" Harry asked cautiously.

Ciar glanced up at Harry and studied him for a long moment, causing the mage to shift uncomfortably. Finally he seemed to come to some sort of a decision.

"Several decades ago, before his first fall, Voldemort tore his soul up into several pieces. Seven to be exact," Ciar began. "These soul fragments where placed into seven different objects, creating what are called Horcruxes. You must understand that this is forbidden magic even to magical beings, and for a very good reason. When the soul is not whole it...twists the mind. It causes insanity, recklessness, and violent and explosive behavior. We know that Voldemort was once a collected, calculating individual. Horcruxes are doubtless what turned him into what he is today."

Harry was staring at Ciar in horror. "He _split_ his _soul_?" he said incredulously. "But, but, _why_?"

"It's a form of immortality, in a very warped way," the professor replied. "If a person has a Horcrux--or several, as in Voldemort's case--they will continue to exist even if their body is damaged or destroyed."

Realization was beginning to dawn on Harry. "So _that's_ how he survived. That's how he became a mere shadow. But..." He hesitated. "...Doesn't this mean that he can't be killed unless the Horcruxes are destroyed?"

"That's correct."

Harry slumped dejectedly. "Great, just great," he groaned. "So I've got to find these damn 'Horcruxes' first and _then_ kill Voldemort. Where the hell am I supposed to start looking?"

Ciar's lips briefly quirked upward to form a smirk. "You don't have to look for all seven, to start out with. We already know what some of his Horcruxes are, even if we don't know where they are. We also know for a fact that one of them has already been destroyed.

"Really?!" Harry shot up in his chair. "How?!"

"By you, actually," Ciar said dryly. His eyes flashed with amusement in response to Harry's confused expression. "When you were twelve you destroyed a diary that belonged to a particular person..."

Harry blinked a few times, trying to wrap his mind around the new revelation. "Oh," he said blankly. "..._That_ was a Horcux? It didn't seem very...evil. Well, except for the whole taking over Ginny's mind and sucking the life from her thing," he amended. "So then...What about the other Horcruxes?"

"Why are you so interested?"

Harry hesitated, unsure as to how much he should tell Ciar. Finally he settled on a half-truth. "I'm probably one of the few people capable of destroying Voldemort," he said. "Or at least one of the only capable people who has a devoted interest in his downfall. He killed my parents and has attacked me at every turn. I have a right to want retribution."

Ciar nodded, apparently accepting Harry's words. "The other Horcruxes are locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin, a ring that belonged to Slytherin's descendants, a magical gold cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, a diadem that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, and Voldemort's familiar.

"The ring, we know, has already been discovered by Albus Dumbledore. He we doubtlessly destroy it, once he figures out what it is. We also know that the cup is in Gringotts, but the goblins, of course, would never take part in its retrieval. We know nothing about the locations of the other items."

Harry frowned for a minute, quickly counting in his head. "That's...only six items," he said finally. "I thought you said seven before?"

To Harry's great surprise, Ciar eyes slid away, unwilling to meet his gaze. "We're still not sure about the seventh," he said finally.

And that was all Harry could get out of him about it.

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Harry had known from the moment he'd first seen him that Aetius was a very relaxed individual. And of course, it was only natural that this leniency to extend to his teaching style. Whenever the vampire was going over Enchantment theory he could very easily be put off track into random discussions, just as was happening right now.

Harry honestly wasn't sure what the topic had started out as. What he did know was that it had long since convoluted into a discussion about how magical beings had affected wizarding society.

"An example," Aetius was saying, "Is the Tale of the Three Brothers, which is a wizarding fairy tale that actually comes from a true story about an encounter between three wizards and a mage. The story, which refers to the mage, as 'Death', tells of how the brothers conjured a bridge above a raging river. Death appeared to them and said that they each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him. The items that the wizards received are described in the fairytale as incredible and powerful, but are rather mundane to any magical being.

"The first of the items was powerful wand known as the Elder Wand. This was a special creation of the mage's--though no one's quite sure why he created it--that allowed for a heightened connection to the wizard's core, giving them increased magical abilities. Not quite on the same level of a magical being, of course, but much higher than the average wizard.

"The second item was a Resurrection Stone which the wizards described as having the power to 'recall others from death'. In reality a Resurrection Stone is something that all of you, as magical beings, should already know of. It just uses the memories in the user's mind to form a projection of a loved one, whether dead or alive. They're rather expensive, but not all that rare.

"The final gift was a Cloak of Invisibility. This was actually how wizards first learnt of Invisibility Cloaks and how they got the technology. Of course, the copies made from that first Cloak are far weaker and tend to fade over time because they don't contain the same enchantments.

"And thus you can see how the Magical World has affected the Wizarding World," Aetius continued, clapping his hands together suddenly. Some of the more enthralled students jumped at the sudden sound. "There are a few other wizarding stories that mention magical beings and even more muggle stories that do. _But_, we're not going to go into that, because this isn't a history class."

"But sir, why did he give the wizards the items?" a student questioned.

Aetius shrugged. "No one really knows; the story has become distorted over time. Though we _do_ know that Itham, the mage, was later executed for his crimes, which were numerous. Personally, I think that the man might have been more than just a little unhinged. Fortunately, the items--which are known in the story as the 'Deathly Hallows'--have long since been lost to the Wizarding World. We do know that the Elder Wand was last in the possession of Grindelwald, the wizard who helped spark the muggles' Second World War, but nothing has been heard of it since then."

Harry curiously pondered the Deathly Hallows throughout the rest of the class. The Stone and the Cloak were of little consequence since they apparently were rather common in the Magical World. It would be worrying, however, if Voldemort managed to get his hands on the Elder Wand. Not too much of a problem, granted, but Harry didn't want to take any chances.

He was honestly considering doing some research to try to figure out what had happened to the Elder Wand. One of Harry's main upcoming goals was to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes, but making sure that he couldn't get the Wand might be a good idea as well.

After some thought Harry decided he'd place it low on his priority list for the time being.

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Mumbling to himself, Harry searched through various papers and essays. Damion watched him bemusedly from his spot on one of Harry's couches. His eyes tracked the mage's movements, but he made no motion to get up and help.

"What _are_ you looking for, Blake?" the vampire finally asked. His voice was thick with amusement.

Harry threw a quick glare over his shoulder. "Why _are_ you here?" he shot back. Then he paused for a moment and sighed "...I can't find my essay for Transfiguration, the one on Nabu's Laws," he admitted finally. "I finished it last night and I _know_ it's somewhere around here, but..."

Damion snorted quietly. "Figures. I've told you a thousand times that you're too disorganized, and this is what comes of it."

"Oh shove it," Harry huffed good-naturedly. "And anyway, why _are_ you here? Don't you have _your_ homework or anything?"

"Finished," Damion replied shortly. "A while ago, actually. I'm here because I'm bored...Though I should probably go speak to Azrael soon; I have to ask him a question about plant chemistry..."

Harry glanced back at his friend, surprised. "Plant chemistry?" he asked.

"Well sure," the young vampire shrugged. "Chemistry, science, etc. is Azrael's specialty. Well, that and hand to hand fight, of course. He's great with potions too; he's aiming to get his Mastery just after he gets out of Silvermoor. I thought you knew."

"I don't know Azrael all that well," Harry admitted. Mentally he was trying to imagine the tall, dark, imposing vampire hunched over a cauldron. It wasn't working. "We've spoken of course, but still..." He shrugged awkwardly.

"It's surprising," Damion muttered. "I would have thought that you and Azrael would get along rather well. But then, I suppose you're a rather surprising person."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well then maybe you should just drain my blood and find out all my secrets," he said sarcastically. He paused suddenly, thoughtful. "Hey...Do vampires even drink blood? I mean, I've only ever seen you eat food, never blood."

"We do, but only a few times a month. Other than that we have to have to eat human food to sustain us. But we don't drink human blood," Damion said, referring to Harry's earlier statement, "Only animal blood. Us drinking human blood would be like humans eating human meat. It's revolting by principal, and tastes disgusting too. Surprisingly, rabbit blood is actually the sweetest."

Harry twitched, slightly unnerved by Damion's blasé commentary on blood. _But..._he thought, _at least that answers one of the questions I have_. He could barely believe that he'd been in the Magical World for so long and yet still had so many questions.

While Harry's thoughts drifted off, Damion stood, stretching. "Anyway, I _should_ get going." The Noctis heir paused with his hand on the door handle, smirking. "As for my previous comment...Well you can't deny that you are a surprising person, Blake. For example, I've been wondering for a while now exactly how an orphan came across as much money as you seem to have." Without another word he exited the room, leaving Harry to stare with wide, shocked eyes at the closed door.

Oh _shit_.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, agitated. Shit, shit, _shit_. He hadn't even thought of that. He thought he'd covered all of the holes in his cover story, but it seemed that he'd completely overlooked one of the most glaring ones.

Had Ryan and the others noticed? Stupid question; of course they had. They just hadn't mentioned it before, just as Damion hadn't. They probably either that Harry would eventually tell them or just respected Harry's silence on the matter.

Speaking of which...Why _was_ Damion bringing it up, now of all times? He'd clearly been contemplating Harry's situation for a while now, but Harry could think of nothing that would bring the situation to the front of the vampire's mind. What had changed?

Somehow, Harry knew that this wouldn't bode well.

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Following that fateful conversation, Harry was acutely aware of just how closely Damion was watching him. It made him jumpy, but fortunately he was able to cover his actions up by claiming to be eager for the end of the year. His friends didn't mention that they still had another month and a half of school left.

Then, one weekend when Harry was relaxing outside with some of his friends, something suddenly dawned on him. With guarded eyes he stared at Damion. The teen was leaning against a tree with his eyes closed, enjoying the sunlight. Harry's mouth tightened into a thin line as he came to a decision.

Abruptly Harry stood, causing all eyes to suddenly shift to him. Harry continued to stare straight at Damion, who had now opened his eyes to stare at the mage in surprise and confusion.

"Come," Harry said in a tone the brooked no argument. To his slight surprise Damion didn't even hesitate. He immediately stood and followed Harry down the path. Behind them, the others exchanged perplexed glances.

Harry didn't stop walking until they were far out of both sight and hearing range. Only then did he turn around to face Damion, his arms crossed firmly in front of him. For a minute the two teens stared silently at each other, both of their faces deadly serious.

"You know," Harry said bluntly. "Or at least you've guessed."

"It wasn't too difficult to piece it all together," Damion admitted. "There were numerous little inconsistencies in your story. Separate they were inconsequential, but together they formed a gaping hole. After that it only took a little digging to find that there was no one named 'Blake Gray' in Great Britain."

A slight wrinkle formed in Harry's brow before quickly smoothing away as Harry forced his face to remain emotionless. "The question is, how much did you guess?"

A faint smirk flickered across Damion's face. "Believe it or not, I do pay attention to the news of the wizarding world. Just as we affect them, they can affect us; they certainly did so during the WWII. When in September news came the Boy-Who-Lived had disappeared, it was quite...intriguing. I didn't piece it together with your situation for a while, but it certainly fits, doesn't it...Harry?"

Harry's shoulders slumped as his fears were affirmed. Honestly, he wasn't sure whether he should be upset or relieved. On one hand the secret that he'd been so desperately trying to keep--but apparently hadn't been doing to good a job of keeping--was out, but at the same time he felt as though some great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The knowledge that he didn't have to continue to struggle to keep a façade up was surprisingly freeing.

Not that that meant he was going to tell anyone else, of course.

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Hermione Granger was not having a good day, as was very apparent by her appearance alone. Her hair, which had straightened considerably over the years, was frizzy and disorderly. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and she was pacing restlessly back and forth, muttering ceaselessly under her breath.

Things had not been going well recently, needless to say. It could all be traced back to when Harry had disappeared without a word back in August. Since then the wizarding world had deteriorated into a rather dark place. The Ministry had finally acknowledged that Voldemort had returned, but with the Dark Lord's worrying lack of action and Harry's unexplained disappearance, the entire Wizarding World was on the edge of panic.

_But it just didn't make any sense!_ Hermione's mind screamed in protest. As he'd demonstrated again and again over the years, Harry had a massive hero complex. He was compelled to help people whenever he could. So why, _why_, would he abruptly leave the Wizarding World, without a single world to even them, his friends! None of it fit together. Hermione felt as though she was missing several big pieces of the puzzle.

The ones that would have tied everything together.

"Merlin, Hermione!" Ron groaned from where he was hunched over in one of the Gryffindor common room's chairs. "Stop pacing already!"

The young witch instantly rounded on him. "I can't help it!" she snapped. "We should be out there, helping! We've fought against Death Eaters before and now that the castle is being attacked we should be helping, not locked up here in the Gryffindor Tower!"

Hermione's face, which had turned red with pent-up frustration, faded back to its normal pale as she released a heavy breath of air. Shoulders slumping, she glanced around at the other students filling up the common room. They all looked pale and drawn. Few of them were speaking and those who were used only quiet whispers. All of them clearly understood the severity of what was happening.

"We should be..." she began to repeat before trailing off, her eyes falling to the floor. She sighed in defeat.

It would another hour before the students received any word about what was happening. By then everything was over and Hogwarts was safe once more.

To Hermione's great surprise, it turned out that there hadn't been a full on attack. Half a dozen Death Eaters had attacked the school in secret, apparently trying to kill Dumbledore, but thankfully had not been successful. The fight itself had been over in only a handful of minutes with a single causality--a Death Eater--and minor injuries. During the extra time that the students had been locked away, the professors and several auror squadrons had been scouring the school, making sure it was safe.

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione called as she quickly strode over to the head of Gryffindor House. She was in the middle of the common room, trying to restore order to all of the students.

With a sigh McGonagall turned to Hermione. The older witch's hair was mussed up and her glasses were partially askew. There were even a couple of tears and burnt spots on her robes, souvenirs from the battle. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What happened to Dumbledore?" Hermione all but demanded. "Is he alright?"

McGonagall paused to reassure a shaking first year before turning back to the brunet. "He'll be fine," she replied. "Because his hand was still injured during the fight he wasn't in top form, but he has only miner injuries."

Hermione shuddered at the reminder of the headmaster's black, stumped hand. She still didn't know what had happened to cause it, only that he'd suddenly shown up in the middle of the year with the damaged limb.

"And no one was badly hurt?" Hermione urged.

McGonagall gave her a faintly annoyed looked. "Everyone will be fine, Miss Granger, I assure you. Now _please_ set a good example for the younger years and go to bed."

Hermione sighed in resignation and nodded. With quiet steps she joined the flow of people heading up the stairs, nodded goodnight to Ron as she did so.

She couldn't help but wonder if things would have turned out differently had Harry been there.

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A/N: To avoid confusion, the world of magical beings will be referred to as the Magical World while the world of wizards will be referred to as the Wizarding World. So if you ever see the Magical World mentioned I'm most usually not talking about wizards. Also, please rest assured that the whole situation with Damion is only just beginning; Harry's definitely not going to just leave things as they are.

I want to thank those who have pointed out little errors in the chapters, because it helps immensely. You see, Word has a _lovely_ little feature called Autocorrect. And what it does is, as I type, correct misspelled words into what it thinks it _should_ be. Which generally makes no sense whatsoever in terms of the sentence. And unfortunately, as all writers know, it can be difficult to catch all things like that in your writing because your mind knows what it's _supposed_ to be and thus skips over it. So if you notice anything that just doesn't seem to fit, please don't hesitate to point it out.

A couple people have also asked why I don't have a beta reader. The truth is that I've had some serious problems with beta readers in the past, particularly ones who suddenly disappear without a word. Eventually I just gave up with the whole situation. If I managed to find someone who is both thorough and quick I wouldn't hesitate to take them up as a beta reader, but for now, oh well.

Also, on my yahoo group I have a list of what the characters' names mean. If you're interested I recommended taking in a look at it. Some of the characters' names reveal hints about what will happen later on in the story.

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	16. Chapter 16: The Hunt

Title: Shades of Gray: The Hunt  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 6,624  
Story WC: 83,930  
First Written: November 10, 2008  
Last Edited: November 15, 2008  
Posted: November 15, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. Unfortunately, it also means that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort is going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 16  
_The Hunt_

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"Come _oooooon_, Blake!" Ryan whined for what must have been the hundredth time that afternoon.

A tic had long since developed in Harry's left eye. He grit his teeth, trying—and failing—to block out the werewolf's voice. It didn't stop Ryan from continuing his pleading.

"It's not like I won't be visiting sometime this summer," Harry finally snapped. "I just can't right away."

"But why not?" Ryan demanded. He'd spent the past few hours demanding Harry visit his home in California over the summer with all the fervor of a dying man.

With a rather forceful clunk, Harry snapped the lid to his trunk close. That morning he'd been relaxed. Hell, he'd been downright joyful. Silvermoor's final exams had ended the day before and today was officially the first day of summer. School was finally out and he was packing his things because while he had the right to come and go to his dorm room during the duration of the vacation, he wasn't planning on spending any of that time at school.

That good mood had mostly gone down the toilet once Ryan had begun badgering him. Harry had long since agreed to visit Ryan over the summer—he was actually rather interested in seeing a werewolf community—but his shaggy haired friend wanted more details than that.

Unfortunately, Harry was unable to give more specific details and unable to even explain _why_ he wasn't sure when he'd be free. It wasn't as though he could just _tell_ Ryan that he was planning on hunting for Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Abruptly Harry's thoughts ground to a halt. He sent Ryan a rather calculating look, causing the werewolf to back off, suddenly wary.

"Blake...?" Ryan questioned hesitantly.

"There's...something that I might need your help with," Blake said finally. He was doing some quick calculations in his head, coming up with a way to use Ryan without actually revealing any information about his life as a wizard. "A treasure hunt, of sorts, though it's quite a bit more complicated than that."

"Why ask me?" Ryan asked after a few moments. His head was tilted to the side in curiosity but his face was uncharacteristically serious.

"Because Senka's not allowed to leave the elf settlement, Zahra's dealing with problems at home, Damion's father is royal jackass and a control freak, and I don't know Azrael all that well," Harry joked. "Plus you've been bothering me all day."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Oh, so I'm you're _last_ choice, even over Azrael?"

Harry smiled brightly in reply. Ryan made to shove him, but Harry simply pushed him off the couch with a solid wall of air. The werewolf squawked loudly and landed in an undignified heap on the floor. He glared at Harry and grumbled under his breath as he climbed back onto his feet.

"Though I suppose the fact that you're a wiz at transfiguration helps too," Harry snickered.

Ryan grin popped back onto his face, as bright as ever. "Too true," he agreed. "Though....you might want to honestly consider asking Azrael to join on this little 'hunt'." As Harry's questioning look, he expounded his statement. "Azrael's incredible with enchantment and anything to do with chemistry. Not to mention that he's a blessing to have in a fight; his family trains their children from a very young age to be warriors."

Harry quietly considered Ryan's suggestion. He honestly didn't know Azrael all that well, but he still considered the silent vampire to be a friend. The only question was, could he trust him with something of this magnitude?

Eventually Harry lifted his gaze back up to Ryan. "If you'll vouch for him, I'll invite him."

Ryan cocked an eyebrow then shrugged. "Eh, sure, I suppose I'll vouch for 'im. He's a good guy, if a little shorthanded in the social department," he said. Ryan ran a hand through his hair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, no, that's not entirely true. He just doesn't make any attempts to interact with people, for lack of interest."

"Right, well, I guess I'll go ask him now then, if he hasn't left yet."

With a quiet pop Harry sent his trunk back to his apartment in New York. He swiftly exited his now much barer dorm room and headed over to Azrael's, just down the hall. The dark haired mage lifted his hand to knock, but before his fist even came in contact with the wood the door opened, revealing Azrael standing in the doorway.

The tall vampire raised one eyebrow in silent question, his crimson eyes boring into Harry. Harry resisted the urge to gulp and take a step back.

"Er, hey Azrael," he greeted tentatively.

Azrael's expression didn't falter. "Blake," he returned evenly. "How can I help you?"

Harry shifted awkwardly. He took a deep breath and then spoke quickly. "I know that we don't speak all that much, but I was wondering if you could help Ryan and I with something this summer. It's kind of a big...project...but your input could help a lot."

Azrael's second eyebrow joined the first. He stayed silent for several long moments, still staring at Harry. Then, as though Harry's had just asked to borrow a pencil, he shrugged and said, "Sure."

Harry struggled to keep his mouth from falling open in shock. "Just like that," he asked, surprised. "You're not even going to ask what the project is?"

"No." Azrael shrugged again. "I'm sure you'll tell me soon enough." Harry's mouth closed with an audible click. He _definitely_ didn't know the Draconis heir very well.

"Well I suppose you're right," Harry said with a chuckle. "I'll explain all of the details to you and Ryan. Are you done packing?"

After Azrael's confirming nod the two of them returned back to Harry's room, where Ryan was waiting with a bored look on his face. The werewolf's expression quickly changed however when he saw Azrael trailing behind Harry.

"Hey Azrael!" Ryan greeted as he got up the couch. "Good to see you'll be coming along."

Harry dropped heavily into one of the chairs, releasing a sigh as he did so. He ran a weary hand through his spiky hair, wondering how in Merlin's name he was going to explain the Horcruxes to Ryan and Azrael without giving everything away. He momentarily considered telling the full truth to them, but discarded the thought almost instantly.

"....Have you ever heard of Horcruxes?" he asked finally.

Ryan shook his head, but Azrael's eyes instantly narrowed. "Soul fragments," he muttered.

"What?!" Ryan exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock. His gaze quickly darted between Harry and Azrael, silently begging for answers.

"Horcruxes are created when a person magically tears their soul apart and ties the soul fragments to various objects," Harry explained. "This allows for a form of immortality, because even if one fragment is destroyed the others survive separately, but it comes at the cost of insanity. Several decades ago Voldemort, a wizard Dark Lord, created seven Horcruxes. I...I need to find and destroy all of them if he's ever to be defeated."

Azrael's eyes narrowed further. "And why do you care so much about stopping this Voldemort character?"

"You forget that I lived in the Wizarding World for five years," Harry replied smoothly. "Several people I knew were killed by him, including a man who was like a father to me. Most wizards do not have the strength to stand up to him and I doubt any magical beings will step in until Voldemort has gone too far. As such, at this time I'm probably one of the only people who can, and will, do anything."

Azrael nodded slowly, accepting Harry's answer. The suspicious expression on his face flowed away, to be replaced with a contemplative look. Likewise, Ryan was tapping the arm of the couch thoughtfully.

"And so you want to hunt for these...horocuxes?" the werewolf questioned.

"Horcruxes, and yes, I do. I've already found out about what six of them are. Two of them, a diary and a ring, have already been taken care of; the third is a golden cup that's in Gringotts; the fourth and fifth are a locket and a diadem, of locations unknown; and the last is Voldemort's familiar, a snake.

"I'm going to try to talk to the goblins about the cup as soon as I can, but there's little I can do about the snake. For now I—we—need to focus on the locket and the diadem. The only problem is that I have no idea where to start looking."

Ryan whistled lowly. "Wow, you really have been working on this, haven't you?" he asked. Harry nodded, deciding not to reveal that he'd gotten most of his information from Ciar.

"A fayerie might be able to help you," Azrael murmured. At Harry's confused look, he continued. "A few rare fayeries called Diviners are born with the ability to divine the location of objects."

"Yeah, yeah!" Ryan said, instantly perking up. "But..." He slumped down in his seat again. "...Most of them are probably in Avalon, so unless you can magically whisk us there, I don't know how we'd find one of them."

Harry resisted the urge to groan. Great, just great. Now, in order to find the Horcruxes he first had to find a "Diviner" fayerie. As if his task wasn't difficult enough already...

Suddenly Harry raised his head up, noticing the thoughtful expression on Azrael's face.. "...You know someone?" he guessed.

Azrael's gaze cut to Harry, surprised. A smirk flitted across his face and he nodded slowly. "I have a friend who's a fayerie," the vampire replied. "I can at least ask if he can get us in contact with a Diviner in Avalon. It's a long shot, but it's the only shot we have."

Harry nodded pensively. "Sounds good to me. In the mean time I can talk to the goblins and then we'll meet up at my apartment." Instantaneously, Harry conjured up a piece of paper and a muggle pen. He quickly scribbled down his address before handing it to Azrael. "Here's the address of my apartment. You can meet me there once you've finished. And Ryan, I assume that you want to go home first...?"

"Yeah," the werewolf agreed. "I'll probably meet you in New York first thing in the morning though, once I've told my parents where I'll be. I won't tell them about the Horcruxes though, I promise," he quickly assured.

Harry nodded and the three teens stood up, ready to go their separate ways.

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After leaving Silvermoor, Harry headed straight for the Gringotts branch in Myrddin's Circle and used it to get to the branch in England. There he quickly approached the tellers and asked to meet with Grimsheild, his account manager.

Harry had been waiting in the lobby for only a few minutes when a younger goblin came to lead him to Grimsheild's office. Harry knocked firmly on the solid wooden door as the goblin strode off. Seconds later Grimsheild answered and Harry slipped inside.

"Ah, Harry," the elder goblin greeted with a single raised eyebrow. "How good it is to see you again. Please, have a seat."

Harry nodded in reply and then sank into one of the rather comfortable chairs in front of the Grimsheild's desk. Said desk was just as messy as always, though Grimsheild seemed to have no trouble finding things on. Ordered disorder, Harry assumed.

"How have things at Silvermoor been going?" Grimsheild asked curiously.

Harry grinned. "It's been a rather...interesting...experience," he answered. "But, unfortunately, I'm actually here to discuss something of importance to the Wizarding World."

"Oh?" Grimsheild replied. He folded his hands before him on the desk, suddenly gaining a much more business-like air of detached, professional interest. "And what might that be?"

Harry paused, considering how to word his next statement. Things could either go good and bad from here, but Harry had the sinking feeling that he'd soon be doing little more than pounding his head against a metaphorical brick wall.

"Voldemort created several Horcruxes," Harry finally said. His voice was soft, but serious. "They have to be destroyed before he can be stopped. One of them...One of them is in a Gringot—"

"No," Grimsheild instantly said, even before Harry could finish his sentence. His voice was flat and devoid of any emotion. "Absolutely not, Mr. Potter. We do not touch our clients vaults."

"But the Horcrux—!"

"No," he repeated firmly. "Horcrux or not, it would be a violation of our policy of the highest order. We _do not_ break our client policy, even if said client is a wizard. I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do to help you."

Harry's lips thinned as he stopped himself from grinding his teeth together in frustration. He was tempted to continue the argument, but he knew that it would do little but push him farther away from Grimsheild, and that wasn't something he could afford. He'd just have to find another way to get the cup.

"Thank you, Grimsheild," Harry said instead, his face just as blank as the goblins. "I'll take my leave now."

Grimsheild nodded, his severity slipping away. He sighed and looked at the young mage before him with sorrowful eyes. "I wish you luck, Harry."

Harry paused with his hand on the door handle. He was just about to leave when a sudden thought crossed his mind.

"Actually, there's one more thing that you might be able to help me with..."

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The next morning Harry's doorbell rang at almost exactly 10 O'clock. The dark haired teen snapped shut the book on Soul Magic that he'd been reading and silently treaded across the floor to the door.

A quick wave of magic turned the door transparent on his side, allowing him to see out. Surprisingly both Ryan and Azrael were there, waiting. With raised eyebrows Harry removed the enchantment and opened the door.

"_Gooooood_ morning, Blake!" Ryan chirped as he bounded inside. "Look who I managed to pick up!"

Behind Ryan's back, Azrael rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. Harry grinned and motioned the two inside.

"Got any breakfast? I'm starving," Ryan prodded. He slumped down onto one of Harry's couches in the same manner that he did in Harry's dorm room: As if he owned it. Azrael rolled his eyes once more, but followed suit.

"You're always hungry," Azrael pointed out.

"Yeah, but today I overslept and didn't eat any breakfast," the shaggy haired werewolf retorted without missing a beat. He turned back to Harry. "So, breakfast?"

"In the kitchen. Help yourself," Harry replied shortly. He focused his gaze on Azrael. "How'd it go?"

"...As well as could be expected," he said after a moment. "I managed to set up a meeting with a Diviner, but what their answer after you explain everything will be, I have no idea."

"Well it's a start at least," Harry sighed. "And you got farther than I did in any case; the goblins wouldn't budge. All I could get out of them was a firm statement that they wouldn't break their client policy."

"Maybe you should break into Gringotts!" Ryan suddenly said with a grin as he returned from the kitchen. To Harry's great surprise, the werewolf had managed to make a sandwich from the merger supplies that Harry had. Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know what was in the meal.

"Yeah, _right_," Azrael snorted. "The goblins have some of the most powerful enchantments and wards outside of Malauak on their banks."

Harry paused at the familiar name, trying to remember where he heard it before. "Malauak?"

"The famed drakyn city," Ryan replied before Azrael could. When the crimson eyed vampire glared at him he took a large bite of his sandwich, feigning innocence.

"It's the drakyn city," Azrael repeated grudgingly, turning back to Harry. "It's more secluded even than Avalon. Supposedly it's somewhere in south Asia , but few know exactly where and even fewer non-drakyns have ever been there. It's covered with every known—and unknown—isolation ward, hiding it from the world."

"Drakyns..." Harry mused quietly. His mind flashed back to Ty, the purple-skinned teen he'd met only a few months before. "I believe I've met a drakyn before; at the Noctis' Memorial Ball.

Immediately Azrael was nodding. "Apalala Kadundor, the drakyn ambassador, his wife, and his son were in attendance," he told Harry. "I wouldn't be surprised if you ran into any of them; they stand out rather easily in a crowd."

"A drakyn? A _drakyn_ was at the dance?" Ryan's eyes were wide in awe. "How come I didn't hear about this?! No one _ever_ hears about drakyns and I was at a ball with _three_ and didn't even know it?! That's so not fair!"

Again Azrael rolled his eyes, "_Anyway_," he began, "Drakyns are an ancient race, possibly older than even vampires; no one knows for sure. Just as veela are an avian race, drakyns are reptilian and supposedly are descended from the Ancient Ones, the dragons of old. Drakyns aren't very forthcoming with this sort of information though.

"But that's completely off topic. The point of this is that I _did_ get you a meeting with a Diviner. The meeting's at four this afternoon. My friend, Jadyn, will lead us to a fayerie ring, where the Diviner will meet us."

"And where are we meeting your friend?"

"In the Gringotts branch here in New York. He'll be arriving here at 3:30 and then he'll take us via portkey to the nearest fayerie ring, which I believe is somewhere upstate."

Harry nodded resolutely. "I'll make this Diviner fayerie understand why we need their help, no matter what it takes."

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By the time 3:30 rolled around Harry, Ryan, and Azrael were already in Gringotts, waiting for the arrival of Azrael's friend. Precisely on time, the fayerie appeared on one of the transport disks and stepped over towards them.

"Azrael," Jadyn greeted warmly.

The tall vampire nodded and clasped arms with the fayerie. "Jadyn," he murmured. "Thank you for helping us."

Jadyn instantly waved the comment away. "It's no problem. You're just lucky that my older brother happens to be a Diviner, otherwise there's probably little I'd be able to do." The fayerie turned to Harry and Ryan and smiled widely at them. "So these must be the two you mentioned." He thrust his hand out at them. "I'm Jadyn Ratan."

Harry briefly glanced over Jadyn. He was rather average for a fayerie, bluish green skin, pale eyes, and all, but there was a ragged scar running down the right side of his neck. It was mostly hidden by his shoulder length white hair, but it stuck out with surprising starkness against his skin. Harry couldn't help but wonder what could have caused it.

"Hey! I'm Ryan," the werewolf said enthusiastically.

"Blake Gray," Harry introduced with a grin. He reached out to shake Jadyn's hand. "And thanks."

"No problem, no problem," Jadyn repeated. He dug around in one of his pockets before pulling out a piece of rope. "Here's the portkey. It'll take us to the base of a trail about five minutes from the ring. With luck we'll get there just before my brother arrives from Tir-na-nog; he always likes to be early."

The three other teens nodded and reached out to grab onto the rope. Jadyn muttered something that Harry assumed was in the fayeries' language and the portkey activated with a sudden jerk. After a few seconds of being roughly spun around as they were transported, the ground beneath them shifted into a well-worn dirt path.

Harry glanced around curiously and found that they were on a path in the middle of the woods. Harry recognized few of the trees and quickly realized that they must have been in upstate New York as Azrael had suggested earlier.

Jadyn led them up the path, chatting amiably with Ryan as they went. Not five minutes later however he suddenly broke off the path. They walked only a few feet through the trees before they entered into a small grassy clearing. At the north end the clearing was a wide circle of mushrooms about five feet in diameter: A fayerie ring.

Jadyn opened his mouth to say something, but Harry didn't hear it. His eyes were glued to the fayerie ring, which had abruptly begun to hum with energy, sending shivers down the mage's spine. The magic began to swirl, as if forming a vortex, before suddenly expelling and fading away.

Instantaneously there was a flash of golden light originating from the ring. When it faded away it revealed a fayerie standing calmly in the middle. He bore a striking resemblance to Jadyn, but he looked older; around twenty or so. His straight hair was almost waist length and he was dressed in a strange blue robe.

"Kail!" Jadyn called in greeting. Smiling brightly, the younger fayerie bounded over to his brother and proceeded to drag him out of the fayerie ring. "Guys, this is Kailash, my older brother. Kail, this is Azrael, Ryan, and Blake."

Kailash bowed politely towards the three teens. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he murmured. He was smiling with amused patience as Jadyn practically bounced around him. "I believe you wished to ask something of me?"

Harry stepped forwards toward the Diviner and returned his bow. "Yes, thank you for meeting with us, Ratan."

"Please, call me Kailash," the older fayerie replied. He waved one hand, instantly conjuring five chairs. "Have a seat and we shall talk."

However, as everyone took a seat, Jadyn began shaking his head. "I should get going," he said. "This isn't my business. It was nice to meet you, Blake, Ryan. I'll talk to you later, Az." He impulsively reached down to hug his brother. "It was good to see you again, Kail!"

And with those parting words, Jadyn strode over to the fayerie ring. He grinned impishly at the group and waved as the magic swirled up once more and he disappeared with a flash of golden light.

Kailash shook his head in amusement, but his smile quickly faded as his face turned serious once more. "I'm curious," he began after moment, leaning back in his seat, "About why you need a Diviner. Jadyn expressed that the situation was rather...urgent...though he didn't know why."

"It is," Harry replied with a grave nod. "We need help finding the locations of several Horcruxes."

Kailash breathed in sharply in shock. "Horcruxes?" he demanded.

"Just boggles the mind doesn't it?" Ryan interjected with a grin. Both Harry and Azrael threw him glares. "What?"

Harry rolled his eyes before focusing his gaze back on Kailash. "A...particular person created and hid several Horcruxes. It is imperative that we find and destroy these Horcruxes as soon as possible. I know about three of them, but the third is a living animal."

Kailash's mouth tugged down to form a harsh frown. "You're not going to give me any more details than that, are you?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "Sorry," he said after a moment.

The fayerie sighed in resignation. "I figured as much," he muttered. "Horcruxes. Merlin, how did you kids get involved in something like this? No, don't answer; I suppose I don't want to know." He sighed again. "Alright then, tell me what the objects are so that I can tell whether or not I'll be able to help."

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. His shoulders slumped with relief.

"It's fine," Kailash answered, waving the sentiment off. "Life's been boring since I graduated from Silvermoor five years ago anyway. I've had little to do but sit around Tir-na-nog and help nobles find their missing silverware. Something interesting like this will do me some good so, if anything, it's you who're helping me."

Ryan let out a bark of laughter. "That _does_ sound boring," he heartily agreed. "I'd never be able to stand something like that."

Kailash replied with a grin of his own, but his eyes never left Harry's. "The objects?" he prodded. "Oh, and you were right about the living animal you mentioned before; I can only divine the nonliving."

"The two other objects that I know of are a locket and a diadem," Harry answered.

Kailash raised one white eyebrow. "You're going to have to be more specific than that," he said dryly. "There are millions of objects that match that description."

"Well..." Harry's glanced shifted uneasily but he eventually sighed. "The locket belonged to Salazar Slytherin and the diadem belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw."

Kailash, Ryan, and Azrael all gaped at him in shock.

"_Salaz_—" Kailash began, only to cut himself off with a shake of his head. "I don't want to know. I _really _don't want to know," he decided with another sigh. "Alright, well that should be enough info, unless they had more than one of those objects."

Ryan's grin flickered onto his face and he began bouncing in his seat like a little kid. "Ooh! Ooh!" he exclaimed. "Do we get to see a divining?"

Kailash chuckled lightly. "I suppose so, but there isn't really much to see."

As he spoke, Kailash tucked his legs beneath him so that he was sitting cross-legged. He breathed in deeply and then his eyes fluttered closed. The fayerie's face screwed up in concentration.

Harry physically flinched when magic began to roll off Kailash in waves. It sparked as if made of invisible bolts of lightning, instantly traveling across the earth. The air suddenly became heavy and oppressive to Harry, as thick with energy as it was.

For several long moments Kailash stayed frozen like this and none of the other teens could tear their eyes away. Then, without warning, the flow of the magic reversed and returned to Kailash. The fayerie sucked in a shuddering breath and opened his eyes.

"And, and?" Ryan burst out excitedly. "How'd it go? Did you find them? Did you?"

Kailash didn't react to Ryan's outburst. He was staring off into space a small frown marring his face.

"Kailash...?" Harry inquired quietly.

Kailash's pale silver eyes lifted to meet Harry's gaze. "I found them, but..." He shook his head abruptly, pushing away whatever thoughts were in his head. "Salazar Slytherin's locket is in Great Britain ...In a cave near the coast. I'll be able to lead you there, but you'll have to get it yourself. As for Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, well...That's a bit more difficult. I can tell that it's somewhere in the Scottish highlands, but...There's some strange sort of magic around it. My magic kept slipping away from its location, as if it was both there and not there. I've never encountered anything like it before. I'll have to look into it further before I can give you a definite local."

"Hmm..." Harry frowned fiercely. "Well, thanks, for your help," he said. "You have no idea how much this will help."

Kailash flashed him a smile. "Some day you'll have to tell me the story behind this," he replied. "I have no doubt that it's quite the tale."

Harry's own grin was humorless. "You have no idea."

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"Are you sure this is the right place?" Ryan asked doubtfully. He was warily eyeing the dark cave entrance before them as if expecting monsters to come pouring from the interior.

Ryan, Azrael, and Harry were standing on a rocky outcrop before the narrow entrance of a cave. Freezing sea water licked at their ankles and soaked the bottoms of their pants. Annoyed, Harry set up a barrier of air to hold the water back.

Azrael glanced back at the stormy sea behind them, a frown planted firmly on his face. "I assume this is the cave Diviner Ratan spoke of but..."

"We don't know if we can trust him," Harry agreed. He shrugged. "There's nothing we can do but check it out though."

Without waiting for a reply, Harry conjured a ball of light and stepped into the cave entrance. Behind him, Ryan and Azrael briefly exchanged glances before shrugging and following his lead.

The narrow entrance opened onto a dark tunnel that Harry could tell would be filled with water at high tide. The slimy walls were barely three feet apart and glimmered like wet tar in the passing light. A little way in the passageway curved to the left and Harry saw that it extended far into the cliff. He continued to wade through the water, his two friends sloshing noisily after him. Almost as an after thought, Harry warmed the air around them, to keep all three of them comfortable.

The tunnel eventually led into a wide cave with smooth walls and a high ceiling. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck instantly stood up; the entire cave was humming with magic. Harry could literally feel it coursing through the walls.

"Er, Blake, I'm not seeing any lockets," Ryan pointed out. The werewolf was casually inspecting the cavern walls. "Why in Merlin's name would Voldemort hide a piece of his _soul_ here?" he muttered. "Damn wizards..."

"I think...that this is just an antechamber," Harry muttered. His eyes were glued to a section of the wall where the magic converged to form the shape of a solid door. "An entrance to the actual cave. The door is concealed, to prevent entrance."

Harry approached the hidden door, letting his fingertips softly slide over the smooth rock. The magic swirled beneath his fingers, but did not move. Tentatively the young mage channeled some of his own magic.

The reaction was instantaneous: An arched outline appeared, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack. But then the light faded, leaving the rock bare and solid as ever.

"Merlin!" Ryan breathed. "That was cool! I never expected to see enchantments like that here!"

"This is the hiding place for a _soul fragment_," Azrael said with a snort. "Did you honestly expect it to be unguarded?"

"But how to open it..." Harry mused aloud, partially as a question, but mostly to break up the retort that he knew would already be on Ryan's lips.

"Blood."

Harry turned to stare at Azrael. "_What_?"

"Blood," the vampire repeated. "It's the most common type of ward used by wizards, particularly dark ones. The idea is that the person trying to get through will be physically weakened. This, of course, does not account for the healing methods of the Magical World nor the naturally advanced healing that most magical beings tend to have."

To demonstrate his point, Azrael strode up to the doorway Harry had pointed out, pulling out a dagger as he did so. Calmly, and without even the faintest hint of a flinch, he dug the point of the dagger across his palm, causing crimson blood to bloom in its wake. He magically cleaned the blade while simultaneously pressing his palm into the rock wall.

The blazing silver outline of an arch appeared in the wall once more, and this time it did not fade. Instead the rock vanished beneath Azrael's hand, leaving an opening into what seemed to be total darkness.

"See?" Surprisingly, there was no smugness in Azrael's tone. He simply put his dagger away and healed his hand by running a finger along the length of the cut, sealing it up, all the while with an unruffled expression on his face.

"Er, right," Harry replied as he cautiously stuck his head into the opening. "Thanks Azrael."

"Good thing we brought you along, eh?" Ryan said with a grin, slapping Azrael on the back. "We'd be stuck without your vampire, blood-obsessed ways."

Azrael rolled his eyes before following Harry into the next chamber. Ryan scrambled after them.

An eerie sight met the three teens' eyes: They were standing on the edge of a great black lake, so vast that Harry could not make out the distant banks, in a cavern so high that the ceiling too was out of sight. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the middle of the lake, though Harry couldn't tell for sure, and it was reflected in the completely still water below.

The greenish light and the glow from Harry's conjured ball of light were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety blackness. Even then the light didn't seem to penetrate as far as Harry would have expected. The darkness was somehow denser than normal darkness.

Ryan let out a low whistle. "Damn, man. It looks like this Voldemort fellow had a lot of time on his hands..." he muttered. "How the hell are we supposed to get across the lake? Assuming we _do_ need to cross it, of course."

Harry nodded absently. "The locket is probably in the middle of the lake," he commented, gesturing towards the green glow.

"Conjure a boat," Azrael said in response to Ryan's question. "Or transfigure one. You're supposed to be the up and coming transfiguration master, right?"

Ryan's chest puffed out in pride. "Hell yeah!" he said and then immediate marched down to the lake's edge, preparing to create boat. He was barely two feet from the water however when he suddenly scrambled back with a yelp.

Immediately Harry and Azrael raced down to the werewolf. "Ryan?!"

Ryan's face was pale and he was shaking with shock and disgust. "Inferi!" he snarled, pointing wildly at the lake. His voice was higher than normal. "There are fucking Inferi in there!"

Harry stared at him, confused. Azrael's face however instantly clouded over. If Harry didn't know better he'd say that the vampire looked personally insulted.

"He dares," the crimson eyed boy hissed. He said no more after that, just stood glaring darkly down at the lake.

"Uh, what?"

"Inferi," Ryan repeated, turning to face Harry. He was scowling and looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "Zombies, basically. They're dead corpses animated with magic. It's disgusting; a complete violation of a person's will."

Suddenly all of the tension seemed to drain out of the werewolf. He sighed deeply, glancing back over at the lake. "We can't get to the lake via water then," he muttered.

A frown tugged at Harry's lips as he eyed the lake warily. He could barely believe that Voldemort would go so far to steal people's lives even after they were dead, and yet at the same time it was completely expected. The Inferi only confirmed his belief that Voldemort needed to be taken care of.

"We'll have to go _over_ the lake then," Harry said firmly.

Ryan and Azrael turned to look at him with raised eyebrows, but Harry simply shouldered past them and approached the lake. He repressed a shudder upon seeing a pale white hand drifting just below the surface and then quickly tore his gaze away. With a few swift twists of magic he conjured a stone platform floating on a base of air just above the ground.

"Sweet!" Ryan exclaimed before jumping onto the platform. He stamped on the stone as if to check if it was stable. All of his previous seriousness seemed to have evaporated.

Once Harry and Azrael had joined Ryan on the platform, Harry levitated it until they were floating fifteen feet about the ground and then began to move it out over the water. The height turned out to be a good thing because once they were over the water the Inferi began floating towards the surface. Harry shivered at the sight of the pale glimmering hands reaching up through the water before forcefully turning his gaze towards the green mist in the middle of the lake.

It turned out the green glow hid a small island of smooth rock. It was a flat expanse of dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much brighter when viewed up close. Harry squinted at it; at first, he thought it was lamp of some kind, but then he saw that he light was coming from a stone basin, which was set on top of a pedestal.

The three teens cautiously stepped up to the pedestal, leaving the platform resting a foot above the ground. Side by side they looked down into it. The basin was full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow.

"_Woah_," Ryan breathed. He glanced up at Azrael. "What is it?"

With a jerk Harry remembered that Azrael was supposed to be very good with potions. He felt a wave of relief flow through him that he had asked Azrael to come; he wasn't entirely sure what he'd have done if the vampire wasn't there.

"It's a...custom potion," Azrael murmured after several minutes of studying the liquid. "It's designed to cause an unendurable pain, if my guess is right. It won't kill its victim, just leave them incapacitated. Most likely the locket is at the bottom of the basin, protected by the potion.."

Ryan inched away from the basin, eying it warily. "Er, right. So how do we get rid the potion?"

"There are wards," Harry said suddenly. He'd been studying the magic swirling around the basin, trying to figure out what the separate layers were. "High level ones. From what I can see they prevent any magic from being used on the basin."

Ryan frowned. "So what're we supposed to do then? Just reach in and pull out the locket?"

"No, it wouldn't be that easy..." Azrael murmured. He cautiously prodded at the air around the basin and found that there was an invisible barrier preventing him reaching inside. He glanced over at Harry. "Blake...Can you remove the wards?"

"Possibly," Harry muttered distractedly. "Just give me some time."

Harry bent over the stone basin, his hands hovering in the air, testing the magic. In their enchantment class, Harry had proven to be the best at the unraveling magic, doubtless because of his ability to sense energy. Since then both Aetius and Ciar had worked with him to advance his proficiency.

A wizard's wards, it turned out, were far different than the ones in the Magical World. They contained a lot less magic behind them and the complexity was almost nonexistent. To a wizard these wards would have been as solid as a ten foot thick steel wall, but to a magical being like Harry, who could manipulate the energy as he saw fit...Well, it wasn't long before he had the magic unraveling beneath his hands.

Finally Harry leaned back with a small sound of triumph. "Done," he said with a smirk. "You can get rid of the potion now."

"No," Azrael said sharply when Ryan eagerly leaned in. "There's no way I'm just leaving the potion."

Ryan and Harry rolled their eyes when Azrael pulled out a vial to hold the potion. The crimson eyed vampire ignored them and used his proficiency with the water element to force the glowing emerald potion to rise up out of the basin and into the vial.

"Done?" Ryan suddenly asked. Strangely his voice was a few octaves higher than normal. Harry stared him in confusion, but the werewolf's gaze was glued over his shoulder. "Cause we've got a problem."

Hearing a sloshing sound behind him, Harry quickly spun around. And then froze in shock.

The surface of the lake was no longer mirror-smooth. It was churning and everywhere Harry looked white heads and hands were emerging from the dark water, men and women and children with sunken, sightless eyes were moving toward the rock: An army of the dead rising from the black water. Under Harry's wide eyes scores of the Inferi latched onto the edges of the small island and began to drag themselves onto the rock.

"Oh _shit_—!"

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A/N: Masses of Inferi. Of what oh what will three trained magical beings do? You have no idea how glad I am to have finally reached the first action scene of the story. Though not plot-progressing, they're _so_ much more fun to write than dialogue.

Also, I'd like to thank StormyBabe1988 for offering to beta this story. Your help is much appreciated!

On a different note, I've just posted a new story. Well, story is a loose term; it's actually a collection of HP story ideas that I'll probably never get around to actually writing. I know I'm only supposed to be working on SoG this month, but inspiration struck and I just couldn't help it. Check it out if you're interested.

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	17. Chapter 17: The Fragments

Title: Shades of Gray: The Fragments  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 4,672  
Story WC: 88,602  
First Written: November 14, 2008  
Last Edited: November 25, 2008  
Posted: November 25, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. Unfortunately, it also means that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort is going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 17  
_The Fragments_

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Harry, Ryan, and Azrael quickly moved so that they were standing back to back. Ryan was cursing up a storm and Harry was silently wishing that they had their weapons with them, but Azrael was just calmly pulling out his daggers.

"Fire," Azrael murmured, glancing at Ryan. "Inferi are weak against fire."

Instantly Ryan's entire demeanor changed. A confident grin bloomed across his face and his stance shifted so that his hands were held out before him. Harry belatedly remembered that, like Damion, Ryan's main element was fire. Unlike Damion however, Ryan was a true pyromaniac.

"Well why didn't you say so before?" the werewolf all but demanded of Azrael.

With a maniacal cackle, the air around Ryan's outstretched hands burst into wild flames. He lashed out as if to hit the approaching Inferi, sending flames whipping out. A number the pale undead instantly caught on fire. They released hellish screeches as they stumbled back into the water, burning limbs flailing.

At the same time, Azrael struck out with his magic and blades and Harry began pushing the Inferi back as well. His hands sped through the air, shoving the Inferi away with blasts of air. He would have used his magic as well, but Azrael's blades had already shown that a missing limb—or even head—did not deter the Inferi in the slightest.

Suddenly Harry felt something shift around his neck and it was only because of how his attention was glued to their attackers that he didn't jump. After a moment Isis, Layla, and Kiya, the three heads of his runespoor familiar, popped out of his collar. Harry spared them only a glance; he'd almost forgotten that he brought his familiar with him that morning.

"_**What's going on?**_" Isis asked grumpily.

Layla was eyeing their surroundings critically. "_**Inferi? How in Ra's name did you manage to get in a fight with Inferi?**_"

Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance while simultaneously shoving a group of Inferi back into the water with a solid wall of air. "_**Oh, so **__**now**__** you wake up?**_" he snapped back.

Unfortunately, Harry had forgotten one little detail.

"You're a parsletongue?!"

Harry winced. Ah, crap. He'd completely forgotten that he'd never revealed to any of his friends that he was a parsletongue. Thankfully, the ability wasn't looked down upon in the Magical World. On the other hand, there had never been a magical being who was parsletongue, only wizards. Revealing his ability was just asking for awkward questions.

Harry glanced over to Ryan, who had taken time from the fight to gape at him. "Er, yes?" the mage replied hesitantly.

Ryan opened his mouth to say something, but paused to viciously tear an Inferi apart when he got too close. The undead man let out an earsplitting shriek before the noise was abruptly cut off as the fire burned through his lungs. He writhed around on the ground for a moment, clawing desperately at his chest as his skin turned to black ash.

"You never mentioned it!" Ryan continued.

"It...just never came up," Harry said rather lamely. "And it's not exactly something I advertise. Look, now's _really_ not the time."

"But— Oi! Azrael!" the werewolf suddenly yelped. "Watch where you're swinging those daggers, would you?" The right side of his face was splattered with Inferi blood. He wiped some of it away with a groan. "That's _disgusting_."

Azrael grunted noncommittally as he slid one of his daggers into an Inferi' chest and jerked the blade upward. While this didn't harm the Inferi, the following solid blast of magic that burned through it as well as any fire would, did.

As Harry turned away from his friends and back to the lake he couldn't help but wince once more. Though creepy and undead, the Inferi did still look like humans. It was difficult to blast away the pale little girl approaching him, but he did so anyway, repeating "_Inferi, Inferi, Inferi_" in his mind, over and over. They may have looked like humans, but they weren't. Not anymore.

"There's too many," Harry grunted several minutes later. "They just keep coming; we'll never be able to destroy them all."

To Harry's great surprise, it was Layla, the intelligent runespoor head, who answered. "_**Block off the island with flames, so that they can't reach you.**_"

Harry's eyes widened as his mind quickly examined the idea from all angles. Without another thought, he quickly built up a ring of wind about one foot think around the edge of the island. At the same time he retreated back so that he was between Ryan and Azrael.

"Ryan!" he barked. "Send a quick blast of fire to encircle the island."

"Wha-?"

"Just do it!"

With a tentative nod, the shaggy haired teen followed Harry's instructions. Immediately the fire began to feed off the condensed air, causing a ring of flames to burst into existence around the small rock island. The Inferi stumbled backwards, retreating away from the fire. Harry continued to feed air into the ring, ensuring that it would stay up.

"Nice!" Ryan exclaimed. "That should keep them away until we get out of here."

Azrael had already turned back to the empty stone basin. With one hand he cautiously fished the locket out, holding it away from him at arm length.

"What now?" he asked as he handed it over to Harry.

The dark haired mage carefully examined the locket. It was a simple silver trinket, but there was an ornate _S_ on the front: Slytherin's mark. However, Harry could feel magic emanating from it, proving that it was more than just a piece of jewelry. The energy felt sharp and stabbing, as though it was filled with animosity.

"We should leave another locket," Ryan said thoughtfully, "To make Voldemort think that the Horcrux is still there if he does a cursory check."

When Harry nodded his agreement, Ryan excitedly picked a pebble up off the ground and transfigured it into an identical copy of the one Harry was holding. At the same time, the werewolf was muttering something about a note under his breath. With a wave of his hand, Ryan transfigured two more pebbles into a pen and piece of paper before quickly jotting something down.

"There!" Ryan cackled. "I'd love to see the look on Voldemort's face when he reads this!"

Harry raised an eyebrow and quickly scanned over the note. Once he'd finished reading it, he couldn't help but snort in amusement. The note basically rambled on about how Ryan had figured out Voldemort's secret and was going to destroy the locket.

"'R.A.B.'?" Harry asked, referring to how Ryan had signed the note.

"Ryan, Azrael, and Blake!" Ryan replied cheerfully. "Except it's only the initials because there wasn't enough space left..." He grinned sheepishly and Harry laughed shortly. It figured Ryan would have a reason like that.

"Well it makes it look like it was only one person who took the Horcrux anyway, so it works," Harry commented. Traces of amusement still lingered in his voice.

Still grinning, Ryan stepped onto the stone platform that Harry had created what seemed like hours ago. "Then let's replace the locket and get out of here, ne?"

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It would be another week before Kailash contacted them again. The three teens had spent the extra time at Harry's apartment, celebrating their first victory. Harry even took some time to visit Sindri, New York's magical shopping mall, to pick up a few items.

The only problem was that Harry had no idea how to destroy the Horcrux. It seemed to be impervious against anything that Harry threw at it magical or non-magical. The mage resolved to take it to Ciar once he had the diadem as well.

It was in the middle of the morning when Harry suddenly received a note from Kailash using the form of message sending used by magical beings. Namely, it suddenly appeared on the floor directly in front of his door. Harry was about ready to curse the thing before he realized who it was from.

The note was asking for them to meet Kailash again. Surprisingly, this time the meeting place was not at a fayerie ring, but instead at a café in Sindri Magical Shopping Center.

"Sweet!" Ryan exclaimed as soon as Harry had read it aloud. "I didn't think he'd find it so soon!"

"I wonder what was blocking him," Azrael mused softly. "Few things can hide from a Diviner's gaze and none of them come from wizards."

Harry shrugged; they'd probably find out soon enough. "We should get going soon," he commented. "The note says to meet him at noon..."

Abruptly Harry's eyes widened as a memory clicked in his mind. He rushed into his bedroom, leaving Ryan and Azrael to stare after him in confusion. A few seconds later the mage returned, carrying three small wrapped packages.

"Here, I ordered these a week ago," he told them. He handed them both a package and kept a third for himself. "I just got them a few days ago, but kind of forgot about them."

Curious, the werewolf and the vampire quickly tore in the packages. Harry watched on in amusement as Azrael went stock-still and Ryan gasped in surprise. With anyone else the sound would have appeared mocking, but dramatics were completely natural when it came to Ryan.

"I thought they'd be useful, especially with getting the Horcruxes," Harry remarked. "It's too bad that they didn't come in before we dealt with the Inferi...Oh, and I got some for Damion, Senka, and Zahra too."

"You— This...!" Ryan spluttered, still gaping.

"Thank you," Azrael said seriously. Harry just smirked and Ryan was quick to add his own sentiments in as well.

In each of the packages was a single silver circle the size of a muggle dime. It was an ETC; an Electro-Telepathic Communicator.

"With this we'll be able to keep in contact all the time!" Ryan grinned widely.

"They have a lot of tactical advantages," vampire teen agreed. "Having them while fighting those Inferi would have helped a bit. But...Why?"

"Why not?" Harry retorted, shrugging again. "They're useful." Azrael and Ryan fell silent, realizing Harry would say no more on the subject.

And so, at noon that day Harry, Ryan, and Azrael made their way down to Sindri. They found Kailash was already waiting for them in the designated café, in a booth that was tucked away in a corner. The fayerie waved them over and the three teens slid into the seat across from him.

"It's good to see you again," Kailash greeted warmly. "I'm sorry to call you here on such short notice, but I've found the location of Ravenclaw's diadem."

Harry leaned forward eagerly, but Kailash looked hesitant. He glanced around them briefly before setting up a magical barrier around their booth to prevent eavesdroppers. Harry's spirits began to drop a bit, wondering just what Kailash had discovered.

"The diadem is at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry couldn't help bet let his jaw drop. Hogwarts? The diadem was at _Hogwarts_? Harry repressed a shudder of revulsion, realizing that he'd been so close to one of Voldemort's Horcruxes all along.

"It's hidden behind some strange magic," Kailash continued, unaware of Harry's reaction, "I'd have to go into the school itself to find its exact location. Unfortunately, the wizarding school is still in session for another week, so we'll have to wait until it lets out before going."

"We?" Harry asked. "You're planning on coming too?"

Kailash simply raised one eyebrow. "You won't be able to find it without me," he replied smoothly. "The wizarding castle is massive and I'm to only one who'll be able to lead you straight to the diadem."

Harry nodded grudgingly. It was true; without Kailash's help, they were stuck.

"Alright," Harry agreed. "When would be a good time to go then?

"Next Friday, right when all the students are leaving. The professors will be focusing all of their attention on them and we can use that distraction to sneak in and out of the castle."

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A week later found Harry, Kailash, Ryan, and Azrael silently walking through the halls of Hogwarts. Thanks to magic, they were all invisible, but they still had to keep an eye out for any wizards. Harry desperately wished that he'd brought the Marauder's Map with him, but he couldn't risk it.

Kailash was walking in front of their little ragtag group, leading them. His eyes were closed, but he no trouble navigating because his magic was leading him.

To Harry's great surprise, Kailash eventually stopped in front of the blank wall that led to the Room of Requirement.

Harry's throat constricted as slight panic began rise up within him. Kailash was studying the wall with confusion and discussing this new development, but the young mage couldn't hear a word of it. This was bad. This was _very_ bad.

He knew without a doubt that Kailash and the others wouldn't be able to get through. None of them were specialized in magic deconstruction. Harry wouldn't be able to disassemble the doorway either; he was no where near that advanced yet. Hogwarts may have been built by wizards, but it was still a very old school saturated with magic. The only way they were going to get to the Horcrux was if Harry opened the Room of Requirement.

And _that_ would bring up some awkward questions.

Harry's mind began to race as he desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation without revealing himself. The idea of telling the truth only briefly crossed his mind before being quickly discarded; he _definitely_ couldn't do so in front of Kailash. Perhaps he could return on his own later? No, too much of a chance of being caught. It was now or never.

The solution slammed into Harry with the force of a rampaging Re'em. It was so obvious! How could he have overlooked the simplest answer of all?

"—find a way through, Blake?" Kailash was asking.

Harry jerked slightly, but managed to stop himself from jumping. "Er, yeah," he said quickly, "I might be able to." Slowly, purposefully, he turned and began to pace. "The magic here is old," he mused—hopefully convincingly—as he walked. "Which means it's deeply saturated in the ground. If I can—"

The young mage cut off abruptly as a door appeared in the wall. While Ryan yelped in surprise, leaping away, Harry repressed a relieved sigh. Thank Merlin it had worked—and they didn't suspect him, which was a good thing.

"A hidden door," Kailash mused. "I assume one of the words you said was the password. I wonder which." He shook himself suddenly. "It doesn't matter. We need to find the Horcrux and get out as quickly as possible."

The inside of the Room of Requirement was unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. The room itself was massive, perhaps almost as big as Hogwarts' Great Hall, and resembled some great cathedral. It was filled to the brim with stacks and stacks of random junk grouped into piles. Harry was sure there were thousands of books and other odd things there.

Harry gulped, more than a little intimidated. While pacing, he'd ordered the Room to take him to where ever the Horcrux had been hidden. But how were they supposed to find the diadem in this mess?

Then Kailash began to walk forward and Harry remembered with mute embarrassment that the fayerie was a Diviner.

The three teens followed Kailash as he wound his way through the shoulder-high stack of junk. He walked with purpose and before long they stopped in front of a tall cabinet. Harry vaguely thought he'd seen it before, but for the life of him couldn't remember where. After a moment he discarded it as unimportant.

Sitting on top of the cabinet was a pockmarked stone bust of a wizard wearing a dusty old wig and an ancient, discolored tiara.

"That's the Horcrux," Kailash said. He was hovering about five feet away from the cabinet, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Harry vaguely recalled Ciar mentioning that fayeries were the "guardians of life" and wondered at how revolting Horcruxes must feel to them. To Harry's magical sense they were both slick and oily, like grease, and prickly at the same time. It was a rather disturbing sensation.

The dark haired mage cautiously walked forward and lifted the diadem from its resting place. Kailash took another step backwards, but Harry was no long paying attention to him. Instead his eyes were the cool metal headdress in his hands. For some reason it felt a hundred times worse than Slytherin's locket had. Remembering how he'd felt next to nothing from Riddle's diary, Harry had to wonder if it meant that this Horcrux had been created later on, after Voldemort's soul had already been stained with insanity.

"How are you going to destroy it?" Kailash asked suddenly.

Harry shrugged while handling the Horcrux uneasily. "I'm going to keep them locked up for now," he replied, "And then ask Professor Ciar about when school starts up again. As Death Master he should at least have some idea of what to do."

"Why don't you just try to unravel the magic holding it together?" Ryan asked curiously.

"No," Harry said immediately, shaking his head. "That might just release Voldemort's soul to return to him. I won't risk that."

"So long as it _is_ destroyed," Kailash murmured. His eyes were thoughtful, but his face flashed with disgust as his gaze passed the diadem. "Let's go," he said firmly. "We should try to get out before the wizards come back."

Harry shrunk the diadem so that it would fit in his pocket-wrapped securely in cloth, though that barely repressed the magic at all-and then the group quickly made their way back towards the door. As soon as they stepped outside however, they instantly froze. Harry felt himself paling drastically.

Dumbledore.

The headmaster looked far older than he had the last time Harry had seen him. It wasn't just his appearance, but also the very air around him. He seemed....Tired. Despite this however, he was standing tall and looking as intimidating as ever. Gripped tightly in one hand was his wand. His other hand, Harry noticed with shock, was blackened and shriveled.

"Who dares to trespass on Hogwarts' grounds?" Dumbledore asked boldly. His eyes were staring through them, unable to see them because of their invisibility charms, but he seemed to sense them anyway.

Harry cursed himself for forgetting the numerous wards around Hogwarts that were doubtlessly tied directly to Dumbledore. The other three might have known next to nothing about the school, but that was no excuse for him. He should have known. He should have anticipated this.

When all of them stayed silent, Dumbledore's mouth tightened to form a thin line. "Answer!" he commanded. "Who are you?"

"_What should we do?_" Harry heard Ryan question. His voice was soft and loud at the same time. Harry stiffened for a moment at the strange sound before realizing that Ryan was speaking to him through the ETC: It was telepathy.

Harry's mind raced, attempting to answer that question for himself. He silently pressed a finger to the cold, metal ETC and replied, "_Wait. Let's see what he does._" His mind flickered to concentrate on Azrael. "_Don't do anything yet, Azrael,_" he said.

"_Fine,_" the vampire replied shortly. "_We must be careful though; even though he's just a wizard, we still cannot reveal ourselves._"

Though he didn't say anything, Harry whole heartedly agreed with Azrael. The sooner they got out of there, the better. Unfortunately for him, Fate, as always, was not on his side for at that moment Dumbledore's eyes suddenly widened in recognition.

"Harry?!" he demanded and the young man froze in shock. He realized belatedly that Dumbledore had been subtly using his wand as Harry had conferred with his friends, undoubtedly trying to figure out who they were.

With his magical senses, Harry felt Ryan, Azrael, and Kailash shift with confusion. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

For his part, Dumbledore was now staring at the apparent empty space before him with an expression that bordered on desperation. When the wards had alerted him to unauthorized presences in the school he'd been concerned that it'd been another Death Eater attack. However, that had seemed strange since the students had already left so he'd come to assess the situation on his own. Now he was very glad that he'd done so. It also made him curious to why Harry was there and who he was with.

"_Blake..._" Ryan said slowly in the resounding silence. "_Why is he looking at you?_"

Harry reflexively opened his mouth to reply, but managed to stop himself in time. "_I don't know,_" he answered weakly through the ETC. "_Maybe he thinks I'm someone else?_" He knew without asking that Ryan didn't believe him. Azrael was suspiciously quiet throughout the whole exchange and only Merlin knew what Kailash was thinking.

"Harry," Dumbledore repeated in a softer tone. "You've come back?" His voice was imploring but his eyes were hard, ready for action, and that, more than anything else, was what made Harry's decision.

Lashing out with his magic, Harry quickly silenced Dumbledore and bound him with air, forcing him to drop his wand. Dumbledore's own energy strained against his bindings, but Harry was easily able to suppress it. Almost as an afterthought Harry summoned the aging headmaster's wand to him and pocketed it. He told himself that it was to make sure Dumbledore wouldn't get free until someone else came along and found him, but he knew that some small part of it was teenage rebellion and vengeance as well.

"Let's go," Harry said aloud, his tone completely void of emotion.

He turned and began to stride away without another word. The other three followed behind him at a more sedate pace. The atmosphere around the three of them was heavy with unspoken questions.

When they'd left Hogwarts grounds and returned to New York via portkey, they all finally removed their invisibility charms. Harry stood in the middle of his apartment with his back to the others. His shoulders were slumped with resignation.

He would not run from this. Now that it was out in the open, he would not lie; he owed them that much at least, for how they'd helped him.

"It is your business..." Kailash said after a moment.

In that second, Harry felt himself washed with thankfulness. The fayerie was willing to let all of his questions go, even now...

"No," Harry said, despite his feelings. "I'll tell you. I..." He sighed then and finally turned around to face his friends, though he still didn't meet their gazes. "My real name is Harry Potter. I _am_ an orphan, but not of unknown origins. I left the Wizarding World last year after finding out that I was a mage and well..." He trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

For several long moments silence reigned. Then, to Harry's shock, Azrael shrugged.

"The wizards' Boy-Who-Lived is mage. Interesting," the vampire grunted.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, smiling. "You're always pulling surprising shit. We probably should have expected something like this."

Harry couldn't help it: He gaped at them. He had expected anything from anger to annoyance, but not this. Not calm acceptance of his deception. Sure, Damion hadn't had a problem with it either and had even immediately swore a magical oath not to tell when Harry had asked, but that was different; Damion had figured it out on his own and had probably had quite some time to mule over the information before he'd approached Harry about it.

Even more surprising than Ryan and Azrael's nonchalance, however, was Kailash's confusion. "Boy-Who-Lived?" he inquired. "What do you mean?"

Ryan snorted derisively. "Fayeries. You lock yourselves up in Avalon so much that you often miss the things that go on in the rest of the world," he muttered. Despite his words though, there was grin on his lips. "The Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, is—was—a wizard baby who was the first person to ever survive a direct hit of concentrated death magic. Even the Magical World doesn't now how it's possible. Quite a few Death Masters wanted to get their hands on him after we found out about it, but fortunately they were held at bay; even wizards would have noticed if the child had disappeared." Ryan suddenly turned his grin in Harry's direction. "But now that child has turned up as a mage. You always were out of the ordinary Bla— Er, Harry, but I have to say, this really takes the cake."

Harry rolled his eyes in amusement at the werewolf's words, but his smile quickly fell away. "I— It's not that I don't trust you guys," he began seriously, unable to stop his eyes from flickering over to Kailash, "But...Would you swear magical oaths not to tell anyone about this? It's just a precaution, but..."

Ryan and Azrael immediately nodded their assent. Kailash hesitated only for a moment before smiling serenely as well.

"I do not mind," the fayerie said. "Your identity has no affect on me or Tir-na-nog."

Unbidden, a smile returned to Harry's lips. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

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The rest of the summer passed by much more uneventfully. Now that Harry had two more of the Horcruxes, there was little he could do until school started up again.

Ryan and Azrael stayed with Harry for another week or so before leaving, but Harry saw them occasionally over the next two months. During the free time that Harry had he traveled across the globe, visiting various tourist locations, both muggle and magical. Even though he'd been exposed to numerous cultures while attending Silvermoor, the trip was still a real eye-opener to the world and Harry wouldn't have traded the experience for anything in the world.

In the middle of July Harry finally went to visit Ryan's family in California. He found to his surprise that the werewolf had three siblings and all three were younger sisters. It was incredibly entertaining to watch Ryan deal with them, especially since they tended to walk all over him.

Harry only spent half a week with them however. He felt like he was intruding, no matter how Ryan and his parents tried to convince him otherwise. He returned to New York for the rest of his vacation, content to spend that last few weeks studying and relaxing alternately.

There was one other major project that Harry took up during his time off: He signed up for Latin classes at a small muggle community college. Because of the long lifespan of magical beings, their culture changed at a much slower pace than both muggles and wizards. As such the language was still used in much of Magical World, even though English had become the main language. Harry figured it would be useful to know. In order to take the classes all Harry had had to do was sign up for it through a magical office and he was good to go.

In the beginning of August, only about a week and a half before the start of school, Harry was woken up in the middle of the night by loud, insistent knocking on his apartment door. Grumbling, he stumbled out of bed and shuffled over to the door.

When he first opened the door, Harry stiffened in surprise, but wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing. The person who had knocked was leaning against the doorframe, hunched over so that they were almost bent in half. They were covered in blood and dirt and their clothes were ripped and torn. Through the gaps in the material Harry could see almost exclusively torn, burned, and bruised flesh.

Then the figure raised their head to meet Harry's gaze and he found himself staring in shock at Senka's bruised face.

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A/N: Congrats to Elsin who guessed after the last chapter that the RAB thing was coming. Also, thanks to BeeS for letting me know that the headmistress' last name would be Mikhailova instead of Mikhailov since she's female. Your help is much appreciated!

Anyway, it's at this point that the plot is really going. The way I have this story planned, most of the plot will take place in his second year and third years. It'll end some time after he turns eighteen. Of course, things could still change—as stories often tend to half write themselves—but that's the plan for now.

If you don't remember what an ETC is, look it up on my group. Or go reread chapter 13, where they were first introduced.

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	18. Chapter 18: The Crusaders

Title: Shades of Gray: The Crusaders  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 5,618  
Story WC: 94,220  
First Written: November 20, 2008  
Last Edited: January 24, 2009  
Posted: December 5, 2008  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. Unfortunately, it also means that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort is going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 18  
_The Crusaders_

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For several long seconds, Harry stared at Senka in shock. The elf managed to hold his gaze during that time, before abruptly collapsing, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Harry reflexively reached out and caught her as she fell while his mind worked itself up into a panic.

"'Mm fine," Senka slurred, barely even conscious. She struggled to get back on her feet, but Harry just shook his head mutely before levitating her over to his couch.

Senka groaned quietly as her back met the rough fabric of the couch. Not for the first time Harry cursed himself for not learning any healing magic. There was no way for him to help—or even just to stabilize—Senka.

"Hold on," Harry said quickly. "I'll create a portkey to New York's magical hospital—"

"No!" Senka said sharply. She rose a few inches off the couch automatically before her face screwed up in pain and she fell back again. "No hospitals," she said hoarsely.

"Senka, you need help," Harry replied, frowning in concern. "And I can't do anything."

"No hospitals," Senka repeated weakly. Her eyes began to drift close and Harry started panicking again.

"Damn it!" he cursed aloud. He ran a shaky hand threw his hair, a nervous gesture he'd picked up years ago, before grimacing when he realized that his hands—and indeed, his clothes, couch, and floor—were covered with slick blood. The only reason Harry wasn't nauseous was because the situation was too dire for him to care.

Making a split-second decision, Harry created and portkey and quickly activated it while holding Senka as steady with his magic as was possible. They landed in the middle of one of Silvermoor's wide stone hallways and Senka immediately wrapped one arm tightly around her midsection and began hacking up blood.

Harry hesitated for a moment, torn between making sure his elvin friend was okay and getting help, before quickly sticking his head through the doorway in front of them.

"Professor Cyan!" he yelled out. "Professor!" He desperately hoped that the Healer was here in Silvermoor even though it was still summer. If she wasn't, then Harry would have no choice but to take Senka to a nearby hospital, no matter her wishes.

To Harry's infinite relief, Cyan came out of a back room of the Healer's Wing, a scowl fixed firmly on her face. "Mr. Gray," she barked. "What are you doing here?"

Harry didn't bother to answer the fayerie's question. He turned back to Senka and carefully levitated her into the room and over to one of the beds. To his horror, her eyes were beginning to drift shut again.

Upon seeing Senka is such a condition, Cyan was by their side in an instant. "What happened?" she demanded. Her hands were already hovering over Senka, beginning to heal some of the worst wounds.

"I don't know," Harry replied with dismayed shake of his head. "She just showed up at my apartment. She...she refused to go to the hospital and I didn't know what else to do, so..."

Cyan's eyes cut to Harry sharply. Her mouth thinned, but she didn't say anything and Harry had a strange feeling that it wasn't just because her attention was on healing Senka.

"Go to the headmistress' office and get Mikhailova," Cyan said after a moment.

Harry hesitated, but eventually turned and began to race towards Mikhailova's office. It was almost eerie to see the halls of the school so empty. Harry ran faster.

The young man literally skidded to a stop in front of Headmistress Mikhailova's office in the back of the Alpha Building. He knocked a few times in rapid succession before letting himself in.

Mikhailova had been hunched over her desk and when Harry burst in she looked up, startled. When she saw who the intruder was she only looked more surprised. Taking in his uneven breaths, disheveled appearance, and panicked expression, she raised an eyebrow in silent question.

The words practically fell from Harry's mouth as he rushed to get them out as quickly as possible. "It's Senka Williams, Headmistress! She's badly hurt. Professor Cyan told me to come get you."

The ice elf's eyes widened once more, before quickly narrowing. Almost faster than Harry could track, she was out of her seat and standing next to Harry, a thunderous expression on her face. Harry gulped and took a step backwards, confused as to why she was suddenly so furious.

"Come," Mikhailova instructed, barely even glancing at Harry.

She began to stride towards the Healer's Wing and even though he was taller than her, Harry almost had to jog to keep up. It seemed Mikhailova was downright scary when she was pissed off; Harry could feel magic rolling off her in waves.

When they reached the Healer's Wing, Mikhailova threw open the door and swept over to where Cyan was standing over Senka. The elvin girl looked a good deal better than she had when Harry had departed, but sweat was running down Professor Cyan's brow and she was obviously growing exhausted. Thus, Harry wasn't too surprised when Mikhailova rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, placed her hands a few inches above Senka's torso, and began to help.

Harry paced nervously near the wall as silence pervaded the room. He desperately wanted to help, to do _something_ other than stand there like an idiot, but he knew as well as they did that he'd only get in the way. Then with a sudden jolt, Harry remembered the rest of his friends. He swiftly pressed a finger to the small metal ETC that was placed directly behind his ear and channeled a small amount of magic to activate it.

"_Ryan?_" he called out in his mind.

There was silence for a few seconds, then, "_Whozzat? Erg, Blake? ...What the hell? It's almost two in the fucking morning!_"

"_Senka's been hurt,_" Harry replied without any preamble.

"_Senka was— Wait, what?!_"

"_Can you get to Silvermoor?_"

"_I— Silvermoor? What the hell?_" Ryan questioned, clearly confused. "_I can't make portkeys yet like you can, Blake—Er, Harry. Damn, I'm never gonna get used to calling you that...—Anyway, I'll get there first thing in the morning through Gringotts. How is Senka? Is she alright?_"

"_She's not in immediate danger anymore,_" Harry answered. He briefly glanced over to where the two older women were still working. "_...At least I don't think so. I've got to go now; I'm going to tell Azrael too._"

Without waiting for a reply, Harry cut the connection and concentrated on Azrael. "_Azrael, are you there?_"

Unlike with Ryan, Azrael answered immediately and Harry offhandedly remembered that it would already be almost nine AM in Italy, where the vampire lived. Harry rapidly repeated what he'd told his werewolf friend.

"_...I won't be able to come,_" Azrael said after a moment. "_I'm in the middle of training and my father won't let me leave, not even for something like this. Will you keep me updated on how Senka is?_"

"_Of course. I understand._"

Mere seconds after Harry finished his conversation with Azrael, Professor Cyan and Headmistress Mikhailova stepped away from Senka with identical sighs. They both cleaned up the blood on and around them and Cyan began to fix up Senka's clothes while Mikhailova headed over towards Harry.

"How is she?"

"She'll be fine," Mikhailova said tiredly. "Did she say anything to you about what happened?" Harry wordlessly shook his head and the headmistress sighed.

"She's awake," Cyan said suddenly.

Both Harry and Mikhailova's heads snapped around at that to look and found that indeed the teen was struggling to sit up in bed. Cyan pushed her back down with a sharp reprimand. To Harry's great surprise, Senka actually glared petulantly up at the professor.

"Miss Williams," Mikhailova began with surprisingly gentleness. Senka grudgingly tore her gaze away from Professor Cyan to give Mikhailova her full attention. "Can you tell us what happened?"

Senka's eyes flickered over to where Harry was standing next to the ice elf. Frowning, Mikhailova followed her line of sight.

"Mr. Gray, would you please—" the ice elf started to say.

"No," Senka interrupted with a quick shake of her head. "He can stay. This...This is important." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. They remained closed as she spoke. "As I'm sure, you're well aware, Headmistress, the elves have been rather...anxious...lately. Yesterday our King finally came to a decision regarding the current...situation...of the Magical World. I disagreed with his choice and as you know, going against the king is considered a traitorous action, punishable by death. I...I fought my way out and just barely managed to Apparate away."

Harry gaped openly. Situation? What did she mean? What on Earth could the elves be deciding that made Senka's disagreement so bad?

As Senka spoke, Mikhailova began to scowl, her face growing thunderous once more. "I had feared that this was the case," she growled. "But I had hoped that they would be more...open-minded than this. You may seek refuge here at Silvermoor, Miss Williams. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some important calls to make."

Mikhailova turned on her heel and strode out of the Healer's Wing without a second glance. Harry had a feeling she was attempting to restrain her anger; not at Senka, but over what had happened. And he wasn't even precisely sure yet what _had_ happened.

When Harry looked back at Senka, he found that her eyes had opened and she was staring at Harry with an unrecognizable expression. Cyan had already left as well.

"I have to admit, I'm confused," Harry said after a minute.

A small grin flitted across Senka's face. "I'm not surprised. The Magical World has been in turmoil for quite some time now, but it's just recently that it has finally come to a boil," she replied. "The elves—well, at least some of the settlements—have decided to support a wizard named Voldemort."

Harry's brain stopped working for several infinitely long moments. He stared blankly at Senka, unable to comprehend her words.

"V-Voldemort?! But, I mean, _why?_"

Senka chuckled humorously as she stared up at the ceiling. "You've only been in the Magical World for a short time, but you've doubtlessly noticed that some magical beings have a great...distaste...for muggles and wizards. They see them as lesser beings," she said with a sigh. Harry nodded silently, remembering the mocking words he'd often heard his peers use. "You have to understand that magical beings once ruled the world, in a way. We were seen as gods by muggles and some magical beings _were_ like gods, in a way. Demigods might be a more accurate term to use. However, we eventually sealed ourselves off from the muggle world and they slowly forgot our existence. Before long even the wizards, a magical subspecies who evolved from mages, allowed their memories of us to erode.

"Over time some magical beings have become angry over how the wizards' and muggles' feel superior. There are some who want things to go back to the way they were thousands of years ago or even to wipe out the 'lesser' races. No one has done anything, however....Until now. Now many different magical beings, who call themselves 'Crusaders', have decided to back Voldemort, who also seeks the destruction or enslavement of the muggles."

"But why join a wizard? Don't they hate wizards too?" Harry cried, more confused than ever.

Harry felt as though his mind was chasing itself in a circle. None of this made any sense! Sure, he'd noticed the disdain and superiority that many magical beings held, but why in Merlin's name would they join up with a wizard? It completely defeated the purpose of what they wanted to accomplish. He felt like there was some big piece of the puzzle that was missing.

"I do not know," Senka replied with a shake of her head. "It was not explained to us. Of course, there are still many magical beings who disagree with this philosophy, myself included. I fear that the Magical World may be on the edge of another World War, this one for the fate of the muggles and wizards."

Something about that last sentence struck a chord in Harry. "Another World War?" he asked curiously. "You mean there's been some in the Magical World before?"

"Several," Senka agreed. "The biggest of them occurred about two and half thousand years ago. It was around then that we began separating ourselves from the rest of the world, because of how badly the world was ravaged. The most recent was about a thousand years ago, though that one was relatively small, and the oldest remembered one was four thousand years ago. We magical beings have a very long history..."

At that moment Professor Cyan returned, several bottles of potions in hand. "Please drink these Miss Williams," she said. "And Mr. Gray, please let her sleep."

Harry nodded. "I'll spend the night here at Silvermoor," he told Senka. "Ryan will be here first thing in the morning and I'll send notes to Zahra and Damion tonight."

After saying goodnight, Harry began to realize just how tired he was after this whole fiasco. He dragged himself to his dorm room, all the while lamenting that he would have to get up again in just a few hours.

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In the middle of the next morning, Ryan and Zahra arrived to see how Senka was. Like Harry, they were both very concerned about this new development. It just figured that Harry would go from one war into an ever larger one.

Some time before lunch, Aetius and Ciar also stopped by. They'd apparently heard about what had happened and were concerned, even though neither of them had Senka as a student.

"I had no idea that the situation in the Magical World was so bad," Harry commented as he sat with Aetius outside the Healer's Wing.

Aetius grunted noncommittally. Harry stared at him, surprised by how somber the usually boisterous vampire was acting.

"Professor...?"

Aetius turned to him, but still seemed to be lost in thought. "I hadn't expected anyone to begin acting so soon," he said finally. "But I suppose Lord Noctis' boldness should have been a warning..."

"Lord Noctis?" Harry repeated, shocked. Instantly his mind went to the day he'd found Aetius injured several months ago and the conversation he'd overheard between Ciar and Aetius. "He...?"

"Er," Aetius grimaced, looking a little guilty. "Yes. Lord Noctis is among those who support the suppression of muggles and wizards. About half of vampires do. The numbers for werewolves and mages who are in agreement are less than half that, thankfully. The veela however...They've long been ostracized by wizards, who know about their society. I fear that most of them may choose to help Voldemort.

"As for the elves...The elves are not so split as the rest of the magical world. At least two thirds of the settlements are choosing to side against the muggles, from what I last heard. There are only three settlements who disagree with this new—relatively new, mind you—philosophy. The nymphs are, as always, neutral."

Harry released a sigh. This situation was _bad_. "What about the other magical races?" he asked.

"The fayeries, goblins, dwarves, and drakyns will stay out of any wars," Aetius said with surprising certainty. "The goblins and drakyns always have and will not change their policy now. The dwarves participated in the world war that took place two thousand years ago, but it was that war that destroyed much of their race. They used to have colonies all over the world, you know. Now the only one left is Hallthor, here in Greenland.

"As for the fayeries...They too took a large blow during the last war. It is most likely that they will seal themselves off from this war, helping neither side. It won't affect them much in any case, since they often opt to stay in Avalon and have no interaction with humans."

"Why are the nymphs neutral?" Harry asked curiously after a moments pause. "Because of their healing abilities?"

"Hardly," Aetius said with a laugh. "Though I suppose that might play a small part. But no, it's because the nymphs are seers."

"Seers?" Harry repeated incredulously. "I hadn't known that the Magical World believed in... Divination." The young mage's distaste for the subject was clear in his voice.

Again Aetius laughed. "Unlike wizards, we actually understand divination," the vampire replied. "We understand that no one but nymphs can see the future, and even that is relative. You must understand that 'seeing the future' isn't really an accurate description because the future is never set in stone. What the nymphs are able to see is what, out of the infinite possibilities, is the most likely to take place. And there are certain events that are almost certain to happen, even if they can happen in different way. Though the images they see will be hazy at best, as people make decisions that influence our future, they are able to shape that blurry mess into a rather accurate picture of coming events.

"However, the nymphs have long sworn to never freely give information about the future away. Little things they will tell to those who ask, but even for kings they will not break their silence about major events. Occasionally they will give cryptic warnings about the future, but never more than that. It's a good thing too, really; knowledge like that can corrupt far too easily."

The soft rustling of clothing was all the warning they had before Ciar and Talbot suddenly appeared around the corner. They were both frowning and talking in hushed tones. Though Talbot almost always looked serious—indeed, Harry didn't think he'd ever seen the fayerie crack a smile—he managed to look even more grim than usual. They only fell silent when they stopped in front of Aetius and Harry.

Harry inclined his head politely towards his Magical Creatures professor, but his eyes stayed glued on Ciar. The man had disappeared a few hours earlier in order to get more information from some of his contacts.

"I assume they haven't released Miss Williams yet?" Ciar asked gruffly.

"Professor Cyan is doing a last check up on her before they let her go," Harry answered with a shake of his head.

"Good. I need to ask her a couple more things first. Bora?"

Talbot nodded and turned away. "I'll talk to Lord Darius right away and let you know what he says."

Harry could honestly say he had no idea what they were talking about, but he didn't bother to ask. Instead, he stared off into space for several more moments, his mind still whirling. He sighed again as the weight of the situation began to settle on his shoulders. He just couldn't seem to get away from blood supremacy, could he?

"There's going to be an outright war, isn't there?" he murmured.

"Yes." Ciar nodded sadly. "Unfortunately, we don't fully know the plans of this rogue magical faction, of these Crusaders, but we do know that their goal will be to destroy as many muggles as they can. It would be wonderful if we could conceal this war from the muggles and wizards as we've managed to do in the past, but their goal will because to cause destruction, not hide it, that will be impossible. It's only made worse by the fact that we're not their main opponents: Muggles are. This will be a difficult and unconventional war."

"What I can't figure out," Aetius piped up, "Is why they think they can win. They are out numbered even with fayeries pulling out. What do they have on their side that makes them so bold?"

Ciar rubbed his temple as if to ward off an encroaching headache. "They wouldn't make their intentions so obvious unless they were sure of their victory," he agreed. "Granted, elves always deal with 'traitors' internally, so they probably hadn't expected Miss Williams to escape. But that still changes little."

Harry frowned as he listened to the two professors throw theories around. Clearly this situation was even more complicated than he'd thought. They were right though. Just why was this new magical faction think they could win?

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The sound of his name being called caused Harry to halt as he walked through Silvermoor, where he'd spent the past few days instead of returning to his apartment. He glanced back and saw, to his surprise, that Jadyn was running after him. As Kailash's younger brother, Harry had only ever met the younger fayerie once.

"Ratan," Harry greeted politely. "How can I help you?"

Jadyn attempted to smile, but it came out as more of a nervous grimace. "I've got a message from my brother," he said, going straight to the point.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Then why didn't he send me a note? Or, if it's not so important, then why didn't you just wait until the start of school? It's only a week away."

"That's partly what it's about," Jadyn said quickly. "I won't be returning to Silvermoor this year. My parents are pulling me out, though they won't tell me why." He made a face. "Something to do with security since my brother's a Diviner. Since I'm here to collect the stuff I left in my dorm room, Kailash wanted me to pass this note onto you. I have no idea why he didn't just send it to you."

As he finished speaking, Jadyn pulled a slim envelope from his pocket. He handed it to Harry, who took it despite the confusion he was feeling.

"Say hi to Azrael for me, will you?" Jadyn asked.

Harry nodded absently. He was still staring at the envelope even as he said his goodbyes to the young fayerie.

The young mage didn't even make it back to his dorm room before curiosity got the better of him and he tore open the envelope. Inside he found a surprisingly long letter from Kailash.

It turned out that the letter was in fact a long explanation of the fayeries' attitude toward the upcoming war and how their king was officially going to stay out of it. Kailash mentioned that, though Jadyn didn't really understand it, he and many other fayerie students were being pulled back to Avalon so that they wouldn't get caught up in the war. He had to send the letter to Harry through Jadyn because all outgoing mail from Avalon was being monitored.

Harry was confused as to why Kailash felt like he owed Harry enough to tell him about all of this, especially since he could get in trouble for doing it.

Regardless, Harry _was_ glad for the letter. All he'd heard lately was speculation about which governments were going to do this and which groups were going to do that. It was nice to finally have something sure, even if it was just that the fayeries were refusing to get involved. In a way it was just as bad as helping to kill the muggles, but he could understand their reasoning.

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Not long after Harry had gotten absorbed in a book about enchantment than a knock came at his dorm room door. He glanced up as the knob turned and Zahra let herself inside.

"Hey Blake," she greeted and Harry realized with a wince that he still hadn't told Zahra or Senka what his real name was. He was tempted to not reveal it at all, but Damion, Ryan, and Azrael already knew.

"Zahra," he replied in kind. "How's Senka?"

"Completely fine, for the most part; Professor Cyan did a great job. She's sleeping right now and probably will be for the rest of the day."

Harry nodded. "Say, Zahra, did you find anything more about your brother while you were home?"

The Egyptian girl shook her head dejectedly. "Nothing," she answered as she slumped into a seat across from Harry. "No clues whatsoever. It's like he just disappeared into thin air..."

"Do you..." Harry hesitated. "...Do you think it could be related to what's going on with the rest of the world?"

Zahra's brow furrowed, but after a moment she shook her head. "I don't see how it could be," she said honestly. "Jibade had nothing against muggles. I mean, my family works with them all the time! Plus he was one of the kindest beings I've ever met. He was always a mediator between my father and me when we fought and he didn't have a mean bone in his body. There's just no reason for him to get involved or for someone to involve him!"

Seeing how much this was affecting Zahra, Harry quickly changed the topic onto the upcoming year. They'd already signed up for their upcoming classes that summer and Harry was curious as to what his other friends had chosen.

"I'm continuing with Transfiguration, Enchantment, and Magical Theory of course," Zahra said. "I decided to go forward with Potions as well. I'm dropping Healing though; it's just not my thing. Instead I'll be taking a second hour of Elemental Manipulation. I got moved up to Advance Physical Arts too, so that'll take up some extra time. My last class is Soul Magic. I heard from Senka that it was interesting, so I figured that I might as well." She shrugged.

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He'd known that Zahra was like a demon when fighting, but he hadn't actually expected her to get moved up to Advanced Physical Arts; less than half a dozen second years made it because it was mainly a class for fourth years. He'd have expected Azrael to make it, coming from a warrior background and all, but not the diminutive mage.

"What classes did you sign up for, Blake?"

"Eh," Harry hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "Transfiguration, Enchantment, Magical Theory, and Elemental Manipulation obviously. I'm continuing with regular Physical Arts, of course, but I decided to drop Magical Creatures in favor of Death Magic."

Now it was Zahra's turn to look surprised. "I thought you could only take Death Magic after two years of Soul Magic," she commented, confused.

"I'm taking a second year of Soul Magic at the same time," Harry replied. At Zahra dubious look, he shrugged. "Professor Ciar believes it's best for me to go straight on to Death Magic this year."

Harry shifted uneasily, unsure as to whether or not he should reveal the truth about the death magic in his magical pathways. After a moment of internal debating, he decided he'd explain it to all of his friends at the same time, once school started back up.

Now _there_ was a conversation to look forward to.

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Less than one week later, Harry found himself leaning on the railing of his dorm room's balcony. He was staring out at the dots on the horizon that were steadily growing larger. He knew that they were carriages pulled by abraxans, bringing the first years to Silvermoor Academy of Magic.

As he stared he couldn't help but feel slightly melancholy. It was unbelievable that it had already been a year since he'd left the Wizarding World...A year since he'd last seen his friends, barring Neville and Theodore. A whole year...

"Hey, Blake!"

Jolted from his thoughts, Harry glanced back into his room and saw that Ryan was standing just in front of the Curtain of Mist that separated his bedroom from the front part of his dorm room. Behind the werewolf were the rest of Harry's friends. The mage sighed and decided it was time to face the music.

"Hey," Harry greeted weakly as he stepped into the room.

Damion raised one eyebrow. "You called us here?"

"Er, yeah," Harry said awkwardly. He began to run one hand through his hair again before he realized what he was doing and quickly snatched the limb away. "I thought it was time to explain...Well, everything." He took a deep breath as he sank into the only chair left. "As some of you know, 'Blake Gray' is an assumed name that I've been using. My real name is Harry Potter and when I was born I was a wizard.

"My parents, James and Lily Potter, were a wizard and a witch who were among those fighting against Voldemort, the wizard dark lord. When I was only a year old Voldemort attacked my parents' home and killed my mother and father. When he tried to kill me, however, something went wrong. I've found out in the past year that the killing curse, instead of killing me like it was supposed to, was absorbed into my magical pathways, leaving them saturated with death magic. This also had the unforeseen affect of turning me into a mage.

"I grew up as a muggle, but with strange abilities that I was able to control. When I was eleven I was told that I was a wizard, but I soon found this to be more than a bit inaccurate, considering that I couldn't use a wand. It was only a year ago, when I managed to stumble across a book about magical beings, that I figured out that I was a mage. Then I came here and, well, you know the rest."

Harry stared down at his hands, which were resting his lap, unable to look up. He knew that it was irrational to feel so worried and self-conscious, especially when most of them already knew his identity, but he couldn't help it.

There was several seconds of silence as the others absorbed all of this information. Then Zahra made a small, thoughtful sound and Harry looked out purely out of curiosity. The Egyptian mage had a pensive look on her face.

"This is why you're taking Death Magic a year early," Zahra remarked. "Because of what happened with the death magic."

Harry couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. That was Zahra's only reaction? To comment on his classes? He'd expected her to be indignant at the very least, considering that she had the fieriest personality out of all of them.

Zahra seemed to read his expression, if the smile on her own face was any indication. "What, you expected me to go into a fiery rage, yelling about how you'd kept this from us?" she teased. Harry grinned sheepishly as a reply and Zahra let out a bark of laughter. "We all have our secrets, Harry, and I can completely understand why you hid your identity. It was for your own protection, in a way."

"And even now I wouldn't recommend telling anyone else," Senka commented. She was looking as relaxed as always, which was what Harry had expected; she seemed to take everything in stride, no matter the severity of the news. "Especially with what's going on with Voldemort, your identity _definitely_ could be used against you. I'd recommend laying low for the time being, until we know about exactly what's going to happen."

From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Damion's face had suddenly tightened with anxiety. He began to turn towards the vampire, but before he could even open his mouth, Ryan suddenly spoke up and he was forced to dismiss his observation for the moment.

"What I don't get," the werewolf said, "Is how you _could_ have survived the death magic in the killing curse. I mean, doesn't it instantly kill whatever it touches?"

"Death magic is a bit more complicated than that," Harry answered. "It isn't just 'death' or anything like that. It's the opposite of energy, just as anti-matter is the opposite of matter; it's the absence of energy. Because of this it sucks the energy out of anything it comes into contact with, sort of like a black hole. When death magic hits a person, it instantly burns through their magical pathways and into their magical core, sucking away all the energy. It's this lack of energy that kills a person, not the death magic itself.

"When I was hit with death magic as a baby, what happened to me was just a one-in-a-million chance. Instead of burning through my magical pathways, it was absorbed and just kind of...stayed there. It's still there today. I don't know why—or how, for that matter—it did this, but it did. This is the whole reason why Professor Aglaeca refused to teach me at the beginning of last year and why I'm working with Professor Ciar."

Ryan, as well as the others, nodded thoughtfully, digesting this information. It was a lot to think on, Harry knew, especially since it brought together so many other little things they'd known about him.

Harry shifted uncomfortably for a moment before abruptly standing up. "I'm gonna, uh, go for a walk. I'll see you all at dinner," he said before hurrying out of the room. They might have all taken the information very well, but that didn't make it any less awkward for him. He needed to get out of the room for a little while.

The dark haired mage strolled down the hall and to the spiral stairs in the center of the large dorm building. He passed a few first years on the way down and realized that they must be settling in. It was strange to see how young they looked, despite being only a year younger. Had he really had that much of a baby face last year?

At the bottom of the stairs Harry halted abruptly. He was frozen in mid-stride, staring in shock at one of the last people he would have expected to find at Silvermoor.

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A/N: To those of you who asked: Yes, the RAB thing has been planned since before I even started writing the story. Though, admittedly, originally it was only going to be Harry and Ryan (Ryan And Blake), but then as I was writing chapter 16, Azrael literally wrote himself in; I hadn't planned for him to be there at all until the very sentence he came in. It's like he possessed me or something, I swear. It works a whole lot better with him there though anyway.

A few of you might have noticed that there are fluctuations with when types of magic are capitalized and I want to mention that this is done completely on purpose. A _type_ of magic will be written with no capitals (i.e. death magic) while a _class_ will be written with capitals (i.e. Death Magic). Masteries are also referred to with capitals, because it's a title (i.e. Death Master, Death Magic Mastery, etc.). And for those of you who haven't read the info in my yahoo group, a Mastery is equivalent to a Master degree in the muggle world, except that it's the only level; there is no associate degree, bachelors degree, etc. Speaking of which, I'm glad to have finally gotten a full explanation of death magic out...But really, that's another subject entirely.

And, finally, I had a conversation with another reviewer about the weakness of the wizarding race and I would like to mention what I told them: Wizards are descended from mages, making them "lesser" magical cousins, in a way. Originally they were only able to perform feats of magic when under extreme emotional stress ("accidental magic"), but then the invention of wands came about, giving them some rough control over their magic. Compared to magical beings, wizards _are_ very weak and easily subdued; only a step above muggles. On top of having less power and less control, their magic is also less potent because the energy has to get filtered through their bodies _and_ their wands.

More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction.

--S.R.


	19. Chapter 19: The Drakyn

Title: Shades of Gray  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 3,878  
Story WC: 98,098  
First Written: December 4, 2008  
Last Edited: January 24, 2009  
Posted: January 24, 2009  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. Unfortunately, it also means that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort is going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

_This chapter has not yet been beta'd._

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 19_  
The Drakyn_

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Harry's incredulous gaze took in the unusual dark purple skin and pure black eyes that belonged to the only drakyn he knew, the teen he'd met at Damion's Memorial Ball on Cohibeo Mors Mortis Day: Ty Kadundor. The other teen met his expression with a wide, amused grin.

"Hello again, Blake. I was wondering when I'd be seeing you."

"_Ty_?" Harry questioned, his voice clearly relaying his disbelief. "What are you doing here? Er, I mean, I thought drakyns never left their city, Malu— uh...?"

"Malauak," Ty offered. "And yes, that's true. I'm attending Silvermoor this year as a third year exchange student however. My father set it up so that I can get a better...feel...for the political climate of the Magical World."

Harry's eyes widened as he read between the lines of what Ty was saying. The drakyns clearly knew that the Magical World was on the edge of a massive conflict and they wanted an insider's view of what was going on. It also spoke very highly of Ty's magical ability that his father was sending him into a potential war zone when many other parents were pulling their children out.

The mage hesitated, unsure of what to say. Finally he settled on a simple nod.

"It is...good to see you again. I hope we'll be able to speak more later."

Ty's grin widened further, revealing teeth that were black and stone-like, like razor-sharp chips of obsidian. "Indeed," the drakyn mused. "I hope that I have some classes with you. If you'll excuse me, I need to go find an empty room with the rest of the third years. Good day, Blake."

Blake stared as the purple-skinned teen strode off through an arch on the bottom floor and disappeared. Then he shook his head and proceeded out of the building.

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Ty found Harry again that night at dinner. Harry's other friends were surprised—and more than a little awed—to find a drakyn at the school. Throughout the meal Harry noticed numerous other students craning their necks to get a good view as well. Once the shock of meeting a purple-skinned and black eyed, toothed, and clawed person was over, it actually got quite amusing. Harry noticed a few of the professors grinning with merriment as well.

"Have you been out of Malauak often?" Ryan asked curiously.

Ty nodded. "My father has frequently taken me with him when he visits various countries. My mother comes along sometimes, mainly to various social functions, but she prefers to stay in Malauak like most drakyns. Personally," he added with a smirk, "I think that most of them just don't know how to adapt to the world, so they just continue living the way they always have, tucked away in their own little world."

"So you're used to being out in the world?" Zahra questioned. "Do you enjoy traveling?"

"Certainly," Ty said with decisive nod. "Though whether that's because of my experiences or just my personality, I couldn't tell you. Though I—"

The drakyn's words cut off abruptly. Harry followed his gaze across the table and saw that a group of three fayeries—fourth years, Harry thought—were walking over to their table. Their eyes were only on Ty. Harry glanced at the drakyn, expecting to find annoyance, but saw only calm, blank acceptance there.

The tallest of the fayeries, a male with short hair and a pointed nose, bowed to Ty as they stopped in front of the table. "It is an honor to have you at our school, Lord Drakyn," he said.

Ty smiled politely, but just widely enough to reveal his teeth. "And an honor to be here, Sir Fayerie. I am Ty Kadundor, son of Ambassador Apalala Kadundor."

"Ah," the fayerie commented, his eyes widening slightly at the revelation. "I assume you are here just for the year, then?"

"Perhaps," Ty mused. "I suppose it depends on the people." His smile widened, as though he was laughing at some private joke and he turned to Harry with amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "What do you think, Blake? Are there some interesting people here? Personally, I get bored easily, so it's always good to have interesting people around.

Both Harry and the fayerie were caught off guard by Ty's strange attitude. The fayerie's mouth dropped open in shock and Harry was left struggling to find a way to answer Ty's question without making it sound like he was completely and utterly confused—which he was.

"Uh, yeah, there are," the dark haired mage managed to say. "Hyperactive vampires, moody dark elves, and all."

"I just know there's a story behind that," Ty said with a laugh. His smile was infectious and soon Harry, as well as those of his friends who knew Aetius and Ciar, were grinning too.

The fayerie, however, was not amused. He looked to be caught between annoyance and confusion, but instead of questioning Ty, he began to stare at Harry. Not one to ever back down, Harry shifted his gaze onto the older student and met him stare for stare.

"_Mind clueing us in on what's going on?_" came Ryan's amused voice in his mind.

Harry resisted the temptation to look over at his werewolf friend. "_I would if I had any idea myself,_" he answered with equal humor.

"_It almost seems like a power struggle between Ty and that fayerie to me,_" Ryan continued after a moment. "_But not quite...Hmm, I wonder..._"

To Harry's rather great satisfaction, the fayerie was the first one to break eye contact. The pale haired young man shifted his gaze back to Ty while frowning thoughtfully.

"I'd...Like to speak to you later, privately," he said to the purple-skinned teen.

Once again Ty smiled politely at the fayerie. "Of course," he murmured. "Later."

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The sharp sound of boots clicking on stone filled the room as Ambrosios Noctis, Lord of the Noctis clan, paced back and forth. His sensitive nose twitched a few times, agitated by the rather stale air, but he paid it no mind.

The room around him was large and made completely from stone. Around the room were seven, life-sized, stone statues depicting warriors dressed in ancient clothing. Ambrosios paused before one of the statues and stared at the jewel around its neck. He reached out to touch it, but pulled back when energy crackled out of the jewel, protecting it.

"Lord Noctis," came a gravely voice

Ambrosios glanced over his shoulder and squarely met the eyes of the older mage behind him. "Master Kyrylo," he greeted. He turned fully to face him. "How did it go?"

A scowl flashed across Kyrylo's face. "As well as can be expected when dealing with wizards," he answered, sneering. "They fell for it hook, line, and sinker. They still know nothing about the Magical World, but rather believe us to be a powerful, muggle-hating, wizard faction. 'Lord' Voldemort is now in our hands to do with as we wish and he has no idea what our true plans are."

Ambrosios turned back to the statue before him, staring at the jewel once more. "Good," he murmured. "As always, their ignorance will be their undoing. And we shall finally have what was once ours again."

"Lord Noctis..." Kyrylo hesitated, "What...what about those in the Magical World who disagree with our stance? We already know that they are aware of our actions. What will we do if they attempt to stop us?"

"They know nothing of our plans," Ambrosios replied with a dismissive gesture. "All they know is that we are starting to take action, but not what those actions are. So long as there are no traitors to the Magical World, we shall be fine."

Kyrylo nodded jerkily. He started to turn away, but threw one last glance at the elder vampire lord, whose gaze was glued to the shining jewel. With a shake of his head, Kyrylo disappeared into the shadows.

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On the day that classes started, Harry immediately noticed a tension in the air that hadn't been there the year before. Everyone was on edge, just waiting for something—anything—to happen. To Harry, it felt as though the school had become a tank of gasoline that would be blown up by even the slightest spark.

It was a bad beginning to an even worse year.

As Harry slumped into his usual seat in Magical Theory that morning, he wondered why he always seemed to get caught up in so much drama. He never looked for trouble—hell, he often went out of his way to _avoid_ it—but it always managed to find him regardless.

"Morning, morning!" Professor Brenton said as she stood in front of the class. "Welcome to yet another year!" She was surprisingly chipper and since Harry highly doubted that she was unaware of the tense, almost hostile atmosphere of the school, she was probably going out of her way to act as though nothing was wrong.

The blonde haired mage began a long speech about the beginning of the year before finally moving onto what they'd be covering subject wise.

"We'll be delving more into history and culture than theory this year," she told them. "As a matter of fact, we're going to start off with the creation of Atlantis and in a few weeks will take a trip to the city itself. After that—"

Professor Brenton continued on for some time, but Harry had stopped listening. "Atlantis?" he hissed to Ryan, who was sitting next to him. It was more of a demand for an explanation than a question.

"It's the oldest and largest city in the magical world," the werewolf whispered back while rolling his eyes. "I'm surprised no one's ever mentioned it you before."

"I might have heard of it mentioned in passing," Harry agreed, "But...I mean, it's actually a _city_, not just ruins?"

Ryan gave him a strange look. "Of course it's a city. I know several people who live there, though I've never been there myself. It's supposed to be a fucking awesome place, since it's underwater and all. It's gotta have some pretty cool wards on it too..."

Harry leaned back in his seat and focused his gaze on the ceiling. So Atlantis was not only a real place, but still a functioning city? The very thought of an underwater city was intriguing.

The young mage drifted through the rest of the class without paying much more than cursory attention. His awareness finally came back into focus as he left his friends to head to his next class. He had his fist Death Magic class next, so he definitely needed to be paying attention.

When Harry stepped into the classroom, he was surprised to find Ty already there. The dark skinned gave him a surprised and curious look before beckoning him over.

"I though you were a second year?" Ty inquired.

Harry shrugged. "I am," he replied, "But I was moved up into this class due to my...experience...in Soul Magic."

As Ty opened his mouth to reply, the door in the back of the classroom opened abruptly.

"Good morning," Ciar said as he smoothly walked inside. He dumped a notebook onto his desk, but didn't sit down. Instead he turned to survey the upperclassmen—and single second year—before him. "I am Erebus Ciar, your Death Magic professor. Before we begin, I would like to make one thing infinitely clear: If you fear death, leave now. About thirty percent of the total fatalities at this school each year are due to this class.

"If you plan on goofing around, please leave now as well. We will be quite literally working with death and a single misstep could be fatal. There's a reason why this class is only offered once you've taken two years of Soul Magic. Of course, this also means that if I feel that you are endangering the lives of other students, I reserve the right to kick you out myself."

Ciar lapsed into silence for several minutes. The class shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze, but no one left.

"Good," Ciar said shortly. "For the first three months of this class we will be solely studying theory and I don't want to hear a single complaint about it."

The dark elf turned to the board and began to lecture without another word on his dark warning. Harry exchanged a glance with Ty before turning all of his attention onto Ciar. He had a feeling that this class was going to be different from the ones he'd had last year.

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Harry was making his way back towards his room that night when out of nowhere a hand shot out, grabbed his shoulder, and knocked him into the wall. Harry stumbled, shocked by the sudden attack. He didn't even get the chance to turn around however, before the fourth year fayerie that'd been speaking to Ty the night before brushed by him.

"Watch where you're going, kid," he sneered.

Harry stood staring after the fayerie long after the other student had disappeared. Honestly, he was more than a bit confused. He was sure that he'd never done anything to the older boy to piss him off.

Despite his history with his cousin, in Hogwarts Harry had never really been subject to bullying. It hadn't been because of his celebrity status—though undoubtedly that had played a part in it—but rather because he just wasn't the sort of person open to bullying. He kept to himself, for the most part, and didn't have many interactions with anyone outside his circle of friends. Even on the occasions when the school had turned against him, it had been the entire school and no one had ever confronted him directly.

The rivalry Harry had had with Draco Malfoy couldn't be called bulling either, as it'd been more of a mutual dislike. Plus Malfoy had run from almost any sign of a physical confrontation. That had been a small source of annoyance for Harry when he'd been younger and for more quickly to anger; he would have liked to be able to take his frustrations out in a fight with someone other than Voldemort.

When Harry had come to Silvermoor this same situation had transferred over. While he had just a small circle of friends, his friends had large networks of other friends, most of whom he'd never even met. Ryan in particular seemed to already be scouting out a group of submissive werewolves.

Because of all this, Harry wasn't entirely sure how to react to suddenly being bullied, even when the bullying was so mild. And that was _if_ it was bullying at all. It was rather egocentric of him to think that the fayerie was acting the way he was just because of Harry—especially when Harry had only met him once before. Maybe the fayerie was just having a bad day. It wouldn't be surprising, considering the tense atmosphere of the Academy that day.

Despite his inner debate, Harry's feet felt abnormally heavy as he walked back to his room.

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"We've got the proof we were looking for, Albus."

Dumbledore glanced up from his paperwork, a surprised look on his face. He didn't look delighted, though Moody hadn't been excepting that, but instead just grim.

"And?"

Moody released an inaudibly sigh. "The new Minister of Magic is definitely under Voldemort's power. The Death Eaters have effectively taken over the Ministry."

"If we have proof then we have to present it to the public," McGonagall all but demanded. She was standing behind Moody, worriedly wringing her hands. "This could be a perfect opportunity to strike a blow at You-Know-Who."

Dumbledore sighed heavily and sat back in his seat. "I'm afraid not, Minerva," he said tiredly. "Something like that is exactly what Voldemort would be waiting for. He could use it to denounce me and pull me from my position of power like Fudge did. My position in the Ministry is shaky as it is and I can't risk loosing it if Voldemort _is_ in power."

"We can't just sit back and do nothing!" Minerva hissed.

"And we won't," Dumbledore promised. "We just have to be very careful in our approach. Voldemort will undoubtedly slowly introduce laws against muggleborns so that the public doesn't grow suspicious and we will fight him at every turn. I shall also get in touch with all of my government contacts around the world, tell them what we have learned, and see what support we can gather abroad."

"So this is turning into a political war?" Moody snorted. "You won't have much need me then."

"On the contrary, Alastor," Dumbledore replied. The twinkle had returned to his eye, though it was far dimmer than usual. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come out of retirement and take your place as an Auror once again—or, rather, as an Auror trainer. If there's one thing we _definitely_ can't allow, it's for Voldemort to sink his claws into the next generation of Aurors."

Moody released a defeated sigh. "I don't like it," he grunted, "But I have to agree. That bastard's corruption is going far enough as it is..." With a scoff, he turned around and began to walk out of the office. "Whatever. I'm going to back to Headquarters for the night."

McGonagall stared at the closed door for several moments after Moody left before turning back to Dumbledore. She had an indecisive expression on her face, as though she wanted to say something, so the wizened headmaster wanted patiently for her to gather her wits.

"Albus..." she said finally, "Have...Have you heard anything else about Harry?"

Dumbledore's shoulders drooped noticeably as he cast his memory back to what had happened earlier that summer. He still couldn't believe that Harry had subdued him so easily; it shouldn't have been possible. Standing there, frozen and waiting for someone to come along and find him had been the most helpless Dumbledore had felt in a number of decades. Harry still had the Elder Wand too, though he doubted that the boy knew what it was.

"No, Minerva," Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid that he has disappeared without a trace once again. However, the...incident...does prove what we had previously thought: That Harry was not captured by Voldemort. Let's count that as a good sign, hmm? Now, we should get back work; the new semester begins in just a few weeks and there is still much to be done."

"...Yes, Albus."

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"I have a special announcement!" Aetius declared rather gleefully at the beginning of Harry's transfiguration class. It was already the second week of the semester, but the blond haired vampire's energy had yet to diminish. "Today we're going to have a very special test. I originally planned to do this a week ago, but it took a little while to set up..."

Harry resisted the urge to gulp nervously. Whenever Aetius had a grin like that bad things happened. Very, _very_ bad things.

Following the first few days Harry had found it surprisingly easy to slip back into the school day monotony—not that anything at Silvermoor could ever truly be called monotonous. He didn't run into the Fourth Year fayerie again, though he didn't know if Ty and the fayerie talked again either. Thus of course, it was only now that something unexpected—and quite worrying, if Harry was to be honest—happened.

Aetius swiftly made his way to the door, literally skipping. "This way, children! Follow me!"

The class hesitantly got up and followed Aetius out into the hall. The professor took them to a small door in the back of the building that led into a tiny room. In fact, the only thing that the room contained was a single trap door. Without pause, Aetius pulled the trap door open with a flick of his finger and began to climb down the ladder inside.

Darkness met the class at the bottom of the ladder. Harry could feel a chilly wind blowing through...wherever they where. Suddenly he had a feeling that they weren't in a small space any more.

"Everyone here?" came Aetius' amused voice as they all began to whisper amongst themselves. "Good. Then let the games begin, ne?"

Abruptly dozens of lights flared into existence. Harry winced, surprised, but that surprise quickly changed into shock as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

They were standing in a massive cavern. The walls stretched upwards into darkness for what seemed like forever even though the ladder hadn't been very long—magic, Harry reminded himself. On top of that, before them was a maze with stone walls more that ten feet tall. There were numerous entrances laid out before them; one for each student, perhaps.

"This," Aetius said with a sweeping gesture, "Is one of Silvermoor Academy's specialized training rooms: The Forgotten Labyrinth. An interesting tidbit to know is that a trial in a wizarding game called the 'Triwizard Tournament' is based off an earlier version of the Labyrinth, but that's not important right now. All you need to know is that the Labyrinth is filled with various enchantments, creatures, and wards.

"Each of you will choose when entrance and follow it to its end. The main goal is just to make it through, but the first person to the end will receive 100 points extra credit. So, I'd suggest that you move quickly! I should also mention that the Labyrinth is spelled so that you'll never run into any of your classmates. Now, each of you choose an entrance and on my word we'll get started!"

Twitching slightly, Harry followed Senka and Damion as they walked over to the maze. Merlin, it _was_ like the Triwizard Tournament all over again. Except, knowing Aetius, there would be something different about it; some sort of a trick involved. If the vampire included something about a golden cup, Harry _would_ throttle him, professor or not.

"You okay Senka?" Damion murmured quietly. When Harry glanced at the two from the corner of his eye, he noticed that the Italian boy was shifting uncomfortably. "Should you be doing something like this, so soon after you were injured?"

Senka chuckled. "I'll be fine, Damion," she replied in an equally soft voice. "I'm already completely healed, trust me."

The long haired vampire nodded, though he didn't look convinced. He looked guilty—and rightfully so. Harry momentarily felt a surge of irrational anger, but he stuffed it down before it could show. Damion was just as much of a victim in this as Senka was, in a way: He'd basically been shoved into a war between his father and his friends.

Harry stared into the darkness of the Forgotten Labyrinth, unable to look at his friends any longer. He couldn't even begin to imagine how Damion must feel, especially since he'd never known his own parents.

"Ready everyone?" Aetius called, still grinning gleefully. In that moment Harry wanted to punch him, he really did. "Then go!"

In accompaniment to Aetius' words the bright lights that hung over the maze flared up once. Harry instantly dashed forward, intent on loosing his troubles in the Labyrinth. A good fight could solve almost anything.

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A/N: I'm so sorry for how long this chapter took! I was insanely busy over the holidays and recently some other projects have gotten in the way as well. This chapter ended up being a bit of a transition chapter anyway. The next one will definitely have a whole lot more action and substance in it.

I have to say that it was pretty amusing to see that 90 percent of people thought that the "mystery person" was going to be Luna. (I will say however that she's definitely going to show up later and play an important role!) My favorite guess however, had to be Piers Polkiss! That definitely would have been amusing. But no, Ty is actually one of the least likely people to show up at Silvermoor because 99 percent of magical beings have never even seen a drakyn, despite their long lifespan.

On a similar note, in only a few chapters the Wizarding World is going to begin to play a prominent role in the story. That'll probably happen once everything with Atlantis is over. At this point what's happening in the Wizarding World is a very similar situation to what happened in the seventh book though, obviously, it's a bit different because Dumbledore is still alive.

And finally, Kyrylo—the mage who was with Ambrosios in this chapter—was briefly introduced in chapter 15, if you don't remember. He's not even close to being a major character, though he does play a part in the plot. Over all, you don't really need to remember him.

Thanks for all your reviews! More info on this story can be found at www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction. This includes a few comics that I did for the story when I was procrastinating...

--S.R.

_All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible. -T.E. Lawrence_


	20. Chapter 20: The Riddle

Title: Shades of Gray  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Beta Reader: StormyBabe1988  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: Death, blood and gore, language, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 2,091  
Story WC: 100,189  
First Written: January 24, 2009  
Last Edited: June 10, 2009  
Posted: June 10, 2009  
Summary: Harry has a dark secret: He isn't a wizard. But that certainly doesn't mean he can't do magic. Unfortunately, it also means that in the face of fanatical governments and enraged demigods, Voldemort is going to be the least of his problems. AU, Gray!Harry, foreign school, vampires, werewolves, politics, no pairings.

_Note: This chapter is currently unedited._

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Shades of Gray

Chapter 20  
_The Riddle_

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Harry continued to run through the Forgotten Labyrinth for several minutes without encountering anything. He was growing more and more wary as each second passed and the deafening silence all around him only made his paranoia worse. He couldn't hear anything that signaled that there were other people in the room with him; he had only that eerie source-less wind for company.

Before long Harry slowed down to a fast paced walk. With squinted eyes he peered ahead of him, trying to see if there was anything up ahead, but there were too many twists and turns in the path for him to be able to properly tell.

A low hissing caused Harry to quickly spin around, his heart pounding in his chest. There was nothing there. He stood tensed on the balls of his feet for several moments, sure that he'd heard something, but still nothing happened. He forced himself to remember that this was a race and began to walk forward again.

The hissing came again, this time accompanied by a flicker of movement in Harry's peripheral vision. The young mage spun around once more, knowing for sure this time that he'd seen something, but again found nothing. He halted completely then and rested on the balls of his feet, just waiting for whatever was out there to make itself known—

—And nearly jumped out of his skin when a thick cloak suddenly wrapped around him. Harry lashed out instinctively with his magic and blasted his "attacker" away from him. Within a few seconds it was wrapped up and bound in a similar manner to the way that Harry had handled Dumbledore several months ago.

Harry backed up and pressed his back up against the Labyrinth wall to make sure that he wouldn't be snuck up on again. As he did so he finally got a good look at the "cloak". It was about a half an inch thick and was a velvety black. It wriggled in its bindings with a life of its own, struggling to free itself.

At first Harry was tempted to think that it was a deranged enchanted cloak, but its thickness made him think twice. After a moment realization struck him: It was a Lethifold. Thank Merlin he'd leant about them in his Magical Creatures class last year, the green eyed boy thought as he eyed the beast warily. Lethifolds had been known to kill many wizards, though magical beings tended to fair better since they weren't restricted to wand usage.

"Psychotic vampire," Harry grumbled to himself as he dropped his guard a bit. "Who the hell uses _Lethifolds_ to test students?"

With an exasperated sigh Harry began to trot through the maze once more. He was a bit more wary this time, unsure as to what would pop out next.

It wasn't long before Harry heard a dull roar coming from up ahead. He slowed down to a fast walk before stopping completely in front of a Labyrinth wall up ahead. He cautiously poked his head around the corner to get a glimpse at what the source of the noise was.

But he certainly hadn't been expecting to see a wall of flames blocking the path ahead.

Honestly curious, Harry stepped into full view of the fire and edged his way forward. He could fell both heat and magic emanating from the wall of fire. From what he could tell, there were some heavy duty charms tying the "wall" in place—doubtlessly placed there by Aetius himself. Harry doubted that he could undo the enchantment, and even if he could, it would take far too long; this was a race, not just a maze.

Harry thoughtfully trailed a hand down one of the Labyrinth walls. They were made from a solid gray stone that Harry didn't recognize—not that he was very knowledge about such things in the first place anyway. He had to figure out some way to get through the fire without removing it, Harry thought as he continued to stare at the stone. It was times like these he wished he was better at controlling fire like Damion and Ryan.

Abruptly Harry grinned and straightened from his slumped position. That was it! Fire may be a form of energy, but it fed off air, which was _his_ forte. Take away the fire's source of fuel and it would die, no matter the amount of energy Aetius' enchantments cranked out.

The only problem with this was that one couldn't just take away air like that. If Harry did that where the fire wall was, then the surrounding air would rush in to fill the vacuum created, which would only make the first even larger—the opposite of what he wanted to achieve. So instead of _taking away_ the air that fueled the fire, he needed to _shift_ that air to a different spot.

Using his magic, Harry briefly created a void of air about fifteen feet above the wall of fire. Just as Harry'd predicted, the air surrounding the void rushed in to fill the space, bringing the wall of fire with it. In that same instant Harry dashed forward through the space where the fire had been.

Harry cursed aloud as a large crack sounded from overhead and sparks began to rain down. A glance upward allowed him to catch sight of a fireball descending from above, but the young mage was already running full throttle through the Labyrinth to get out of the way. Only a short while later he couldn't even hear the sizzling left over from the explosion anymore.

Of course, it was only a few minutes later that Harry remember that he was capable of Apparating.

Oops.

Well, that could have made thing infinitely easier, Harry thought with a wince; he could have just Apparated to the other side of the fire wall. That was, of course, _if_ Aetius hadn't put an anti-Apparation ward over the Forgotten Labyrinth. A quick test proved to Harry that that wasn't the case. Aetius probably wasn't expecting any of them to know how to Apparate yet.

Unfortunately, Harry couldn't just Apparate to the end of the maze because he'd never been there and thus had no idea what it looked like—or where it was, now that he thought about it. He could, however, Apparate as far along the path as he could see, which would immensely cut down on the time it'd take him to get through the Labyrinth.

Harry spent the next fifteen minutes doing just that. He passed through several more obstacles, including some rather interesting charmed arrowheads and a particular incident involving a feather duster that he was never going to speak of again.

The last obstacle he'd passed, however, had been a ward that he'd been forced to dismantle instead of simply Apparating across. It was rather well done, Harry had to admit, and took several minutes to fully unravel. The teen continued his Apparation jumps until he Apparated directly in front of a sphinx, who was lounging in the middle of the pathway. The lion with a woman's head looked up lazily at Harry's appearance, completely unconcerned.

Muscles tensed, Harry prepared to Disapparate again, only to gasp as he ran into a metaphysical brick wall. He tried again and again, but it quickly became apparent that there was an anti-Apparation ward over the area.

"Oh sure, _now_ Professor Aetius puts it up," Harry grumbled to himself.

To his surprise, the sphinx chuckled lowly. She was gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes and her whole expression seemed to be laughing at him, as though she though that his existence there was just some big joke.

"Hello again, child," the sphinx purred.

Harry frowned at the greeting. Again? What could mean? He'd only ever met one sphinx before, back at Hogwarts—

Realization and incredulity gripped Harry as the same. He _had_ seen the sphinx before, now that he took a good look at her. She was the same sphinx that'd been at the Triwizard Tournament!

The teen groaned aloud. "I'm going to _kill_ Professor Aetius," he muttered angrily. The maze was one thing, but this was going a bit too far.

The sphinx laughed again, louder this time. She stood up and stretched languidly before sitting back on her haunches and appraised Harry with her almond-shaped eyes.

"I suppose you'll need a more difficult riddle this time, hmm?"

Harry scowled at her. "Yeah, _thanks_. That's helpful," he snapped.

The sphinx shrugged apathetically and gaze him one of her mysterious smiles. "Tell me, child," she said, "What runs on two legs and then on four? What walks the Earth, forever shackled to the ground? What guards the lost, remembered only by the forgotten?"

Harry stared at the sphinx, dumbstruck. This was entirely unlike the riddle she'd given him several years ago. "Remembered only by the forgotten"? What on earth could that mean?

Before Harry could even open his mouth to reply, the sphinx abruptly began to laugh again. Then, without warning, she disappeared, leaving Harry standing alone in the maze.

For a while Harry stood gaping at the spot where the sphinx had been. What the hell had that been about? Why—and how, for that matter—had she disappeared?

Hesitantly, Harry tested the anti-Apparation wards around the Labyrinth and found that they to were gone. He doubted that Aetius would randomly put wards like that up, strange as the vampire could be sometimes, which meant that they had to have something to do with the sphinx. But...How could that be possible?

Harry edged forward, half expecting the sphinx to jump out at him, but she was well and truly gone. He gazed around the Labyrinth, troubled, and then Disapparated away.

It turned out that the sphinx had be the last "obstacle" of the maze. Harry only had to Apparate a few more times before he saw the exit ahead of him and ran the rest of the way on foot.

The Labyrinth exit opened up into an open space exactly like the one at the entrance. It took Harry only a moment to recognize the ladder at the far end of the room and realize that it _was_ the very same—somehow the Labyrinth had turned them around so that they came out the same way that they went in.

There were already three people standing outside the maze, waiting. The most noticeable was of course Aetius—who was floating in the air as though he was sitting in a chair. The other two were a mage he vaguely recognized from class and, surprisingly, Senka.

"Blake," Senka greeted quietly.

Aetius smiled broadly. "Third place, Gray!" he said. "Am I correct in assuming that you're the one responsible for the little light show earlier?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn't realized the explosion had been quite that visible.

"Uh—"

"Hmm, fourth place? A pity."

Surprised, Harry glanced over his shoulder. Damion was exiting the Labyrinth, dusting his clothes as he walked. The young vampire stopped next to Harry and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Then his gaze landed on Senka and his eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, with his earlier worries, he hadn't been expecting her to finish so quickly.

Over the next few minutes the rest of the students stumbled out of the Labyrinth looking more or less unscathed. One that last person had finally completed the course, Aetius hopped down from his invisible perch.

"Well now, children," Aetius said cheerfully, "Congratulations on not getting yourselves killed!"

"Yeah, no thanks to you, ya bastard," a werewolf next to Harry muttered under her breath.

"And special congratulations to Senka Williams, who was the first to exit the maze," the blond haired professor continued. "The promised 100 points extra credit have already been added to your grade. And now, if everyone will please make their way up the ladder and back to the classroom...?"

The students gave a collective groan, but dutifully turned around and began to trudge forward as instructed. Harry, however, hung back with Aetius. Once the other teens were a fair bit ahead of them, he turned to the vampire and gave him a humorless grin.

"As...interesting...as this maze was, professor, I have to admit that I'm a bit confused about that sphinx."

Aetius froze. He stared at Harry with surprise and confusion and the young mage suddenly felt his stomach tighten.

"...Sphinx?" Aetius repeated slowly. "Are you sure? 'Cause I know _I'm_ sure that I didn't put any sphinxes in the maze."

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A/N: ...Yeah...It's been what, almost six months? (**winces**) Er, sorry about that. The delay was a combination of business, my other stories, and because, for those of you who aren't aware, I'm working on a rewrite of this story. It won't be posted for a while though (not until I have a bunch done) and I'll be continuing to write this at the same time. The basic plot line will be exactly the same and some of the later chapters will be nearly identical, however I'll also be completely redoing a lot of the beginning. There'll be a few new OCs and some of the old ones will never show up. Generally it's being done to clear up some of the plot holes and make the story...cleaner, if that makes any sense.

Anyway, this actually isn't all of chapter 20. I'm just posting what I have right now so show that this story isn't dead and that I _am_ working on it. None of my stories are unless I specifically say so. Once I finish writing this chapter I'll delete this and repost the completed one, so that those on the alert list will know of the updated version.

And finally, for those of you who don't know, I now have website up for info on all of my stories (and it also archives the stories themselves). If you'd like to take a look, here's the link: shadowrebirth(DOT)webs(DOT)com. The first chapter of the SoG rewrite is already up there for those interested.

Thanks for all of your reviews!

--S.R.


	21. Note

No, this is not a new chapter. Again, it's been a while since the last, mainly because I've been insanely busy this summer. I've been working 40+ hours a week at my job, which means that I've basically been crashing as soon as I got home. And _Prince Revolution!_ took up the rest of my free time (see below for more details). Unfortunately, I also seem to have run into a bit of a problem of SoG—namely loosing motivation on it so that I can focus on the rewrite instead. (For those of you who didn't read the AN in the last chapter, I _am_ currently working on a complete rewrite of the story, called Atra Regnum). As such, I've decided to release the rewrite earlier than originally intended.

However, before I can do so, there are two things I need: A new beta reader and an English checker. Allow me to explain:

1) Beta reader – I'm looking for someone who is not only adept at catching grammar mistakes, spelling errors, and typos, but also who is willing to give critique on plot and characterization. If you're interested, please PM me.

2) English checker – Basically someone who is from Great Britain who will look over Harry's _dialogue _only and put in slang words and British terms to make his dialogue a little more authentic. You won't have to worry about grammar or spelling or anything, just the words themselves. Again, if you're interested, please PM me!

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Also, there's another project that I've been working that has been delaying my writing a bit. Said project is called _Prince Revolution!_. Basically, I'm one of the editors for the English translation of a Chinese novel called _1/2 Prince._ It's a great story if you're interested and you can find it online here, halfprince(DOT)wordpress(DOT)com. It's also been made into a great manhua by the same name, for those of you who like anime/manga. You can find it on both onemanga and mangafox. I hope you enjoy the story!

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And finally, since it _has_ been so long since I last updated, here's a small sneak peek of the SoG rewrite, _Atra Regnum_. You can also find the entire first chapter up on my website, under _Sneak Peeks_. Enjoy!

_The professor blinked in confusion for a moment before grinning sheepishly. "Oh, right," he said apologetically. "I forgot about that: I'm Professor Gaea Aetius from Silvermoor Academy of Magic. Nice to meet ya, Harry!" He thrust his hand out and then stared expectantly at Harry, all while still grinning widely._

_"Er, it's nice to meet you too, sir," Harry said slowly as he shook the proffered limb. "So...Where is Silvermoor exactly?"_

_"On the Greenland Magical Reserve," Aetius answered proudly. "Best location in the world if you ask me!"_

_"...In Greenland? Isn't it all ice?"_

_"Well it's actually not all that cold in the summer months, but that's just in the muggle parts," Aetius said enthusiastically. "You see, most of Greenland has actually been turned into a magical reserve for various species of magical creatures and magical beasts. The entire island is covered in wards and enchantments of all types that regulate temperature and vegetation, allowing for numerous different types of habitats to coexist side by side. The muggles and wizards haven't noticed, even though some think that they've traveled straight through the middle of the country, because of the enchantments. Quite useful, really."_

_"Merlin himself helped to set up the Reserve, you know," Christophe interjected. "It's said to have been amongst his greatest works."_

_"And the school is right in the middle of all that?" Harry asked, admittedly impressed. "Sounds...interesting."_

_"Oh, you better believe that it is," Aetius readily agreed. He seemed to be completely sincere, not just trying to get Harry to like the school. "Some of the students there crack me up! Not to mention the teachers. There was this one time when Abigail had a cup of coffee and—"_

_Christophe coughed politely. "Master Aetius, if don't mind...?"_

_"Oh, right," Aetius said, not put out in the slightest. "Anyway, we offer a lot of interesting core classes on top of the normal ones. There's p__hysics, chemistry, transfiguration, enchantment—which is what I teach—elemental manipulation, botany, soul magic, magical history, magical creatures, astronomy, magical literature, magical art, and beginner's healing. __Of course, there's also a wide variety of other classes that you'll be able to take in a few years as an upperclassman, such as __neuromagic__ and death magic."_


	22. Final Note

The first chapter of _Atra Regnum_ has been posted, which means that this is officially the end of Shades of Gray. Sad as that is, I feel that Atra Regnum is going to be far, far better. Also, thanks very much to everyone who offered to help out with AR! In the end I chose solunvar and Teufuel1987—and thanks a ton to them!

I was pleasantly surprised by the number of you who turned out to be 1/2 Prince Fans. I hope that you'll continue to enjoy the story as it progresses. Also—I forget to mention this in the last note—those of you who like 1/2 Prince should check out the 1/2 Prince forums at halfprince(DOT)ipbfree(DOT)com/index(DOT)php?act=home. It's a fantastic community there with a lot of 1/2 discussion, news of updates, character fanclubs, RPs, and fanart and fanfiction contests. If you'd like to drop a line, I can be found there under the same username.

Thanks sincerely to all of you who've enjoyed _Shades of Gray._ Have fun with the rewrite!

--S.R.


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